


She's Beauty, She's Grace

by sunflowerseedsandscience



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Crossover, F/M, Season/Series 06, episode: s06e09 Tithonus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-07
Updated: 2017-01-14
Packaged: 2018-09-07 01:03:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 34,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8776984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunflowerseedsandscience/pseuds/sunflowerseedsandscience
Summary: I was asked to write a Miss Congeniality/The X-Files mash-up... so here goes nothing.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kateyes224](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kateyes224/gifts).



It's a common misconception that someone who is sleeping cannot feel pain in their dreams. If she had not already been aware of this fact, courtesy of her medical training, Dana Scully would definitely know it now.

She awakens with a gasp, the imagined pain of her nightmare blending seamlessly with real-life agony as she tries to sit up too quickly. She falls back onto her mattress with a groan, clutching at her abdomen, waiting for the spasms to calm enough for her to reach for the painkillers and water that wait at the ready on her nightstand. She knocks back two pills and settles back down against her pillows, breathing deeply as she waits for the Vicodin to kick in.

The silence of her apartment takes her by surprise. She's been having the same nightmare every night since coming home, and until now, her mother would have been at her side by the time she was awake, summoned there by her thrashing and half-awake crying. But this is the first night she's been alone for two weeks, having sent her mother home and refused Mulder's repeated offers to sleep on her couch in case she needs anything.

She understands they're both worried, that it had been a close call, that Ritter's bullet had come within half a breath of ending her life... but she needs to get on with her recovery, both mental and physical, and it's not going to happen if she doesn't learn to get through these nightmares without having her hand held.

 _At least it's morning this time, and not the middle of the night_ , she thinks, turning her head to look out the window at the bright sunlight. She's just beginning to wonder how she's going to fill day twenty-two of what feels like a never-ending medical leave when the sound of her cell phone makes her jump. She winces and clutches at her stomach again. Luckily, the phone is on the pillow right next to her, where she'd dropped it late last night after finally saying goodnight to Mulder. She grabs it and answers it.

"Scully."

"Hey, Scully, it's me." He's calling awfully early; apparently going a full six hours without talking to her wasn't possible for him. She rolls her eyes, but she's smiling.

"What's up, Mulder?"

"I know it's early, but I wanted to let you know that Skinner and I are on our way to your apartment." She sits up slowly, carefully, frowning.

"Why? Is it something to do with Ritter's inquiry?" She's been promised by the bureau that the rash behavior of her temporary partner, whom she has to thank for the healing gunshot wound in her stomach, will be thoroughly investigated, but she's not really holding her breath.

"No, it's not," says Mulder. There's an uneasy pause. "It's kind of complicated. Listen, we'll be there in about fifteen minutes and we'll explain it then, okay? You need me to pick anything up for you on our way? Can you have coffee yet?"

"Not yet," she sighs. "No, I don't need anything. See you in a few."

\-------------------------------------------

Neither Mulder nor Skinner looks particularly happy when Scully opens the door and lets them into her apartment. They turn down her offer of refreshment and sit down in her living room, their expressions grim.

"Before we start," says Skinner, "I want to make sure that you know that I've argued strenuously against this."

"So have I," interjects Mulder.

"But we were both overruled," says Skinner. "A situation has come up which requires the help of an agent with certain... characteristics. Kersh is insisting that you best fit the profile that Violent Crimes is looking for, and in spite of our objections that you're still recovering from your injury, he claims that the assignment won't be physically demanding or dangerous."

"What kind of assignment?" Scully asks, thoroughly confused.

Skinner glances at Mulder, whose lips are pressed into a thin line. "Agent Scully, how familiar are you with the Miss United States Pageant?"

Whatever Scully had been expecting to hear, this is not it.

"The... I'm sorry, Sir, the beauty pageant?" Skinner nods. "Very, very little, Sir. I know it's for young women, I know they're supposed to be beautiful and have some sort of talent, but beyond that...." She shakes her head. "I'm sorry, Sir, but it's not something that's exactly been on my radar. Ever." Skinner nods.

"I understand that," he says. "The owner of the pageant, as well as the reigning Miss United States and some of the contestants, have been receiving a series of threatening letters. Violent Crimes has had a look at them and has determined that they're the real thing- someone is targeting the pageant, threatening violent action against it."

"So what does Kersh want with me?" Scully is even more confused now. If they're looking for a profiler, Mulder is the obvious choice, not her. Unless Kersh is deliberately passing him over again, trying to humiliate him? But if that's the case, why is he here with Skinner?

"Violent Crimes needs an agent on the scene at the pageant," says Skinner. "Undercover." Now Scully sees where this is going- and she hopes to god she's wrong.

"You don't mean-"

"As a contestant."

Scully is dimly aware that her mouth is hanging open. The silence in the room is deafening, both Mulder and Skinner waiting for her to be the first to speak. Skinner's bald head is flushed red with embarrassment. Mulder merely looks unhappy.

"Sir," says Scully, finally, "you can _not_ be serious."

"I'm afraid I am, Agent Scully," says Skinner. "Both Agent Mulder and myself argued that you haven't had enough time to fully recover from your injury and that you are not yet ready to be back in the field, let alone out on an assignment that will require a large amount of time on your feet."

"I would think all of that would be among the least of your concerns, Sir," says Scully. 

"What are yours?" asks Skinner, and out of the corner of her eye, Scully sees Mulder smirking.

"For one thing, I'm too old," she protests. "I don't know much about these things, but I do know the contestants are supposed to be in their twenties, and I most certainly am not."

"You look sufficiently close to twenty-nine that if your entry says that that's how old you are, people aren't going to question it," says Skinner.

"And contestants are supposed to have a talent, right? Something showy? Singing, or dancing, or playing an instrument? I can't do anything like that, Sir! What am I supposed to do, stand up there and recite quadratic equations? Autopsy a body onstage?"

"You could dress up like Annie Oakley and do target shooting," quips Mulder, and Scully glares at him until he assumes an appropriately contrite expression.

"We'll figure something out," says Skinner. "We've got consultants who have some ideas that could work." Scully sighs.

"And beyond all of that," she says, "I think Kersh is looking past the most obvious problem."

"What's that?" asks Skinner, frowning, confused. In answer, Scully gestures down at herself.

"I do _not_ look like a beauty pageant contestant," she says. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but aren't the women who win these things usually six feet tall, with at least two-thirds of their body comprised of legs?"

"The winner from three years ago was five feet, one inch tall," says Mulder. Both Scully and Skinner turn to look at him, eyebrows raised. "What? I did some research." Skinner shakes his head.

"In any case... Kersh wants you to go undercover and pose as a contestant in the pageant," he says. "We'll have an entire team of profilers and support agents on the scene, posing as janitorial staff, ushers, stagehands, things like that... but there will be places they can't go, conversations they won't have access to, and that's where you'll come in. It won't be dangerous- you'll be wired at all times, and whenever you're out of our sight, we won't be more than a room away. I promise you that." He sits back, looking suddenly uncomfortable. "And... uh... you won't be undercover alone, either." Scully's heart lifts slightly, and looks at Mulder... but he only shakes his head, suddenly morose.

"I tried, Scully," he says. "But they wanted me with the rest of the task force, not undercover." Scully looks at Skinner.

"So that means...." Skinner clears his throat.

"I requested that I be undercover as well," says Skinner. Mulder smirks and chuckles, and Skinner glares at him. "It was the only way I would agree to it- if one of us was in on it with you. It was decided that I would be most believable as... that I would pose as...." He sighs. "I'll be acting as your personal coach." Scully's eyebrows are practically tickling her hairline.

"A _pageant_ coach? You?" Skinner glowers. "Sir?" she adds, as an afterthought. Best not push him just now; he's clearly uncomfortable.

"It was the only thing we could come up with that would allow me to speak with you as often as necessary," Skinner says. "It would look too suspicious for you to be seen speaking frequently to a security guard or a stagehand." Scully has to admit that this is true... but still, the idea of Skinner, gruff and serious, coaching young women on things like poise and style? She can't stop the corners of her mouth from twitching. 

"As I've said, Agent Scully, I argued very strongly against this," says Skinner. "If you feel you are not yet sufficiently recovered, I advise you to petition Kersh directly. I will absolutely support you." Scully thinks about this a moment. If Kersh has overruled Skinner already, it's unlikely he's going to listen to her. She could bring her doctor into it... but she knows that if she fights Kersh on this, he'll make her pay. She glances at Mulder, whose face is unreadable, even to her. Kersh has already split them up temporarily; it's all too likely that he'll do it permanently if she refuses to do this.

"I'll do it, Sir," she says. Skinner nods shortly and stands.

"We'll be heading to Las Vegas tomorrow morning," he says. "You won't need to pack much; Evidence will be providing a suitable wardrobe for you." Scully just barely represses a groan.

"Don't worry, Scully," says Mulder. "I told them nothing flashy. No crop tops or miniskirts." She smiles at him in gratitude.

"Ready to go, Agent Mulder?" asks Skinner. Mulder remains seated.

"Nah, I'll get a cab," says Mulder. Skinner looks as though he wants to argue- Mulder is on the clock, after all- but he seems to decide it's not worth the effort.

"I'll see you in the morning, Agent Scully," says Skinner, and leaves. As the sound of his footsteps recedes down the hallway, Mulder leans forward and looks at Scully intently.

"All right, Scully, tell me the truth," he says. "Are you really up to this?" Scully glares at him.

"I said I was, didn't I?" she snaps.

"I heard you," says Mulder. "But I know you, Scully. You could be bleeding on the floor with an ax wedged in your neck, and you'd say you were still able to work. I've seen you _literally_ on death's door, trying to carry on with your job." His gaze softens slightly. "I can see the way you're holding yourself. You're still in pain, aren't you?"

"I'm just due for my medication," she lies.

"And that's another thing- your meds. You can't possibly go back in the field on Vicodin. It's just not safe."

"It's a low dose," she protests. "Not nearly enough to affect my cognitive functions. I'll be fine, Mulder."

"Sure, you'll be fine, until you're not anymore," he says. "Scully, what happened in New York was close. _Too_ close. I don't want to risk you like that again."

"Mulder, you and I both know that Kersh will use any excuse he can find to keep us on different assignments," she says. "If I refuse to do this, it gives him a perfect opportunity. I am _not_ letting them split us up again. I've told Skinner I'll do it and my answer is final." She sinks back into her chair with a sigh. "I don't know why you're so worried. My cover's gonna be blown in less than a day anyway."

"What makes you say that?"

"I'm not one of those women, Mulder," she says. "I was a tomboy growing up. I still _am_ a tomboy, at heart. I can't do phony smiles and oozing femininity."

"False," says Mulder. "You might be a total kick-butt badass, Scully, but you are absolutely feminine."

"Not like that, Mulder," she says. "The legs, the long, perfect hair, the-" She gestures at her chest. "The _assets_... I don't look like those women, Mulder. I'm going to stand out like a sore thumb."

"No, you won't, Scully," he says, his voice soft. "None of them have anything on you. Trust me on this." Scully can feel a hot blush creeping up her chest and onto her cheeks. She feels desperately uncomfortable under his gentle gaze. Mulder doesn't generally say things like this to her. She knows he appreciates her looks- she's seen it in his face for years- but it's not typically something he comments on.

"Thank you," she says, looking down at her lap. He shrugs, grinning bashfully, and stands.

"You should relax for the rest of the day," he says. "Get some rest while you can." She nods and stands as well to see him out. As she opens the door for him, something occurs to her.

"How do the guys in Evidence know my clothing sizes, Mulder?" she asks him. Mulder, already looking a little sheepish, blushes even more.

"Uh... I told them," he says.

"And how did _you_ know?" In answer, he gives her a sweeping glance from head to toe, and grins. She smiles and shakes her head. "Let's hope you guessed right, Mulder," she says. "Otherwise the first thing you're doing when we land in Vegas is taking me shopping."


	2. Chapter 2

Traveling with the top brass definitely has its perks, Scully thinks to herself. Instead of being crammed into an uncomfortable seat in coach, she and Mulder are relaxing side-by-side in the roomy seats of a well-appointed private jet, with Skinner sitting across from them. Mulder had initially sat in a different portion of the jet with the agents from VCU, at Kersh's stern request, but within ten minutes, he'd ditched them to sit by Scully and Skinner. It doesn't take Kersh long to come looking for him.

"Agent Mulder," he says, standing over the three of them, glowering, "you're needed with the profiling team."

"We're not even there yet," says Mulder casually. Kersh's eyes narrow.

"You will need to read the case file and familiarize yourself with it before we arrive," he says. "I agreed to your coming along- reluctantly, I might add- but as a profiler, _not_ as Agent Scully's partner." Mulder leans back in his seat and kicks his feet up onto the low-slung table in front of him.

"The Miss United States pageant- not to be confused with the Miss America or Miss USA pageants- is owned by a Las Vegas billionaire by the name of Allan Bellman, who's made most of his fortune in casinos. The pageant is held at at the Bell Tower, a hotel he owns, and all contestants stay there, as well. In the past two months, Mr. Bellman has begun to receive letters threatening harm to his pageant, his casinos, his family, and himself. In addition, last year's winner, Miss Selena Flores of New Mexico, as well as this year's contestants from Texas, Virginia, California, and New York have also received letters. Unlike Mr. Bellman's letters, which threatened murder and damage to property, the women's letters also explicitly threatened sexual violence. All of the letters were typed on plain computer paper, and were mailed from a Las Vegas mail drop. The envelopes and paper were free of fingerprints, hair, fiber, or any other trace evidence. The letters were signed 'Knights of Tradition and Virtue,' and extensive research has not turned up any evidence of any such group. No demands have been made for money, or for the pageant to be called off: the letters are statements of intent, not ransom notes." He gives Kersh a beatific smile.

"And how did you get access to the case file, Agent Mulder?" asks Kersh. Skinner clears his throat and leans forward.

"I provided Agent Mulder with the file yesterday afternoon, so that he could take it home overnight and familiarize himself with the case," he says. "I felt that it would be in Agent Mulder's best interests to get a head start, since he'll be spending much of his time with me."

"In what capacity, exactly?" snaps Kersh.

"As my backup, and as additional protection for Agent Scully," says Skinner calmly. "If anyone asks, he's my personal assistant. I'm sure lots of pageant coaches have them."

"May I remind you," says Kersh, "that Agent Mulder is not here under your command? I agreed to have him assist with profiling, _not_ to follow you and Agent Scully around."

"And he will," says Skinner. "But Agent Mulder has some very understandable concerns regarding Agent Scully's safety. As do I, Alvin. I can't help but remember that the last time she was sent out on assignment without her partner, she nearly lost her life." He fixes Kersh with a pointed look. "Under _your_ watch."

"There was absolutely no way I could have prevented that from happening, and you damn well know it," growls Kersh. "It was regrettable, an unfortunate incident, and I am very sorry for the inconvenience it has caused Agent Scully, but the fact remains that I had no way of predicting that Agent Ritter would make a mistake like that."

"Oh, no?" Skinner leans forward in his seat, his face positively dangerous now. "I've seen Peyton Ritter's records, Alvin. I've seen how his instructors at the Academy noted that he is given towards rash behavior. I've also seen that his supervisor recommended that he not receive assignments in the field until his unfortunate tendency to act first and think later could be sufficiently overcome." Skinner reaches into his briefcase and withdraws a sheaf of papers. "And I've also seen proof that you yourself signed for copies of Ritter's records immediately before sending him out into the field with Agent Scully," he continues. "Which leads me to believe that either you didn't read those records... or that you _did_ read them, and were not sufficiently concerned with Agent Scully's well-being to heed them." He hands the papers- which are clearly marked "COPY" across the front, indicating that Skinner has the originals elsewhere- to Kersh, who swallows hard as he scans through them. Skinner leans back in his seat, looking very satisfied. "So I think you'll agree with me that, while Agent Mulder will, of course, assist in working up a profile on whoever is making these threats, it's also imperative to Agent Scully's safety that he remain at both her disposal and mine for the majority of the time."

Scully has to admit that Skinner's bait-and-switch is deftly done. Whether or not the inquiry into what happened in New York is taken seriously, if this information comes out, it will, at the very least, mean an official reprimand for Kersh. She can see the Assistant Director coming to the same conclusion, and with a final, dangerous glare at Mulder, he retreats. Scully looks across the table at Skinner, who shrugs.

"I'm making sure OPR gets all that for the inquiry once this is over, anyway," he says. "But there's no need for Kersh to know that." Scully grins.

"If you weren't sitting all the way over there, Sir," she says, "I just might kiss you again."

"What do you mean, _again_?" demands Mulder. Skinner's entire head goes an impressive shade of fuscia. Scully only smiles.

 

\----------------------------

 

Just over an hour into the flight, a tall, trim woman with flawlessly styled blond hair approaches their seats. Out of the corner of her eye, Scully sees both Mulder and Skinner suddenly sit up straighter, and she just barely suppresses a smirk.

"Agent Scully?" Scully stands- with some difficulty. She's past due fore her painkillers, but she's trying hard to lessen her dosage.

"That's me," she says. The woman smiles and extends a hand, which Scully shakes.

"I'm Elise Needham," she says. "I'm a professional pageant consultant. Mr. Kersh hired me to help you get ready and show you the ropes."

"Where's that leave you, Sir?" quips Mulder, grinning at Skinner. "I thought you were gonna be Scully's coach." Skinner glowers at him, but Elise only laughs.

"I'll be assisting you, as well, Mr. Skinner," she says. "Telling you what to tell Agent Scully when people are listening, essentially."

"I appreciate that," says Skinner gruffly. "This isn't exactly familiar territory for me."

"Not for me, either," admits Scully. Elise smiles warmly at her.

"Not to worry, we'll get you up to speed quickly," she says. "I've got some space set up near the back of the jet to start getting you ready for when we arrive, so if you'd like to come with me, we'll get you changed and made up, all right?" Scully glances back at Mulder and Skinner.

"Have fun," says Mulder, grinning at her. He turns to Skinner. "I'm gonna go play nice with the VCU guys for awhile, okay?" Skinner nods, and Mulder heads towards the front of the plane, while Scully follows Elise towards the back.

The final twenty or thirty feet at the back of the jet has been partitioned off into a conference room. As Elise closes the door behind them, Scully sees that the entire space has been taken over by rolling clothing racks stuffed to capacity, and that the large table in the center is covered with every type of makeup and hairstyling product imaginable.

"Mr. Kersh allowed me access to your evidence department," says Elise, walking towards the nearest rack of clothing, "but they were a little bit lacking in the kinds of clothing you're going to be needing, so I got your sizes from your partner and did a little shopping." She rifles through the outfits hanging on the rack and pulls out a simple, sleeveless sheath dress in pale blue. "Agent Mulder provided me with a picture of you, so I could choose suitable colors. I thought this would bring out your eyes." Scully smiles.

"It's perfect," she says. "I have to admit, I was worried about the clothing. I don't think my usual wardrobe of choice would be appropriate."

"No, probably not," Elise agrees, laughing. "Though that suit you're wearing is lovely. Fits you just right."

"Thanks," says Scully, liking this woman already.

"Why don't you go ahead and try this on?" Elise suggests. "Then we'll see what we can do with your hair and makeup."

The blue dress fits perfectly, and just as Elise has promised, it makes the blue of her eyes twice as vibrant. Scully's half-tempted to ask if she can keep it when the assignment is over... but she reminds herself that it's not like she'd ever have a reason to wear it. She doesn't exactly go out much.

"Oh, perfect," says Elise appreciatively, when Scully comes out from behind the modesty screen that's been set up in the corner. She hands Scully a set of strappy silver heels. "Your partner says you manage to outrun him in three-inch heels, so I'm guessing walking in these won't be a problem?"

"Shouldn't be," says Scully. "Just as long as I'm not the one taking the suspect down." Elise indicates a chair at the end of the conference table, and Scully sits down in it. Elise lifts a strand of her hair.

"Beautiful," she says. "This is your natural color, isn't it?" Scully nods. "Lucky. I've coached contestants who have paid good money for hair like this." 

"Thank you," says Scully shyly. Her hair has always been one of her favorite things about herself, since childhood.

"Your partner told me you prefer not letting everything hang out, so to speak," says Elise. "I've tried to choose clothing that's modest, but also shows off your assets. The only place we might have trouble is the in the swimsuit competition. I understand that you might not feel comfortable in a bikini-"

"It's not that," Scully interrupts. "I mean... no, I wouldn't feel very comfortable in a bikini, at least not onstage in front of hundreds of people, but that's not why I can't wear one. I was shot in the line of duty less than a month ago, in the abdomen, and the scar is still very visible." She shrugs apologetically. "It's probably not the sort of thing people will be expecting in a beauty queen."

"No, I suppose not," says Elise, clearly trying very hard not to look horrified. "Well... depending on where your scar is... we may be able to find a one-piece with cutouts that don't show it, but still show off your body." Scully nods. Elise picks up her hands and closely examines them, one at a time. "Very nice. You take excellent care of your skin and nails."

"I have to," says Scully. "They get dried out from frequent hand-washing. All the autopsies." Elise's eyes widen in surprise.

"You... do autopsies?"

"Yes, I'm a forensic pathologist."

"Well," says Elise, clearly impressed. "Gunshots, running in heels, and autopsies. That certainly makes my job ordering around beauty queens seem easy."

"I don't know about that," Scully counters. "Cadavers don't talk back." Elise looks shocked, and for a moment, Scully worries that she's offended her... but then she breaks into peals of delighted laughter.

"Oh, Agent Scully," she says, smiling and shaking her head, "I think we're going to get along just fine." Scully finds herself grinning back.

"Please, call me Dana," she says.

 

\---------------------------------

 

By the time Scully's been made up, polished, and brushed, her hair lying perfectly smooth and immaculate thanks to a flat iron she's sure probably costs half her monthly salary, Mulder is done with whatever he's been doing with VCU, and is back in his seat with Skinner, flipping through a file, making notes in the margin, and making his way through a bag of sunflower seeds. He doesn't look up as Scully approaches, but Skinner does, and the look on her boss's face is not one she's ever seen before.

"What?" She glances down at the dress, frowning. "Is it too much?" At the sound of her voice, Mulder looks up... and promptly chokes on a sunflower seed. Before Scully can move to help him, Skinner reaches over and pounds him forcefully on the back, disgorging the seed. Mulder coughs weakly and draws a shaky breath.

"You okay, Mulder?" Scully asks, trying hard not to laugh.

"Yeah," he squeaks, his face bright red. "Fine."

"And that," says Elise, coming up next to Scully, "is _exactly_ the reaction we're going for."


	3. Chapter 3

With less than a half hour left before the jet is due to land in Las Vegas, Elise seats herself next to Skinner, across from Scully. From a stylish leather briefcase that Scully can't help coveting just a little, she withdraws an itinerary.

"Our first order of business, once we get to the Bell Tower, will be a private meeting with Mr. Bellman. He'll want to introduce himself to all of you, and lay down some ground rules for you and the other agents."

"Ground rules?" Skinner's eyes are narrowed. 

"It's still his pageant," says Elise evenly. "And he's not going to want the other contestants knowing that his hotel is swarming with FBI agents. They're already nervous enough about the competition itself; no need for them to be worrying about the threats, as well."

"I'd imagine the contestants who have received letters are already worried," Mulder points out.

"Not necessarily," says Elise. "These women already receive a great deal of attention, both positive and negative. They're taught to forward all threats to the police as a matter of course; it's unlikely they're aware that those particular letters were anything out of the ordinary. The police are the ones who noticed the connections between the threats, since the name of the group has been put out on the wire." She scans her itinerary. "Once we've spoken with Mr. Bellman, we'll get you situated in your hotel room."

"I'm assuming I'll have a roommate?" Scully asks, apprehensively. She's been worrying about this ever since the possibility had occurred to her. But Elise, blessedly, shakes her head.

"You'll have your own room," she says.

"We thought it would be better if Agent Mulder and I could be guaranteed a place where we could speak to you privately," says Skinner. "Without you being seen entering one of our rooms. That sort of behavior is apparently... frowned upon."

"Forbidden, actually," Elise interjects. "A contestant who's seen entering a man's room, or caught entertaining a man in _her_ room, can be disqualified."

"So we've got you a solo room at the end of the hall that's housing the other contestants," says Mulder. "It's got a connecting door, and Skinner and I are sharing the double next to it." Scully can't help but notice that Skinner doesn't look too thrilled about this. "So anytime you need us, anytime we need to regroup or go over something, we can do it without attracting attention."

"How did you manage to get me my own room?" asks Scully.

"Told them you've got sleep apnea and somnambulism," says Mulder flippantly. "We said you snore like a chainsaw and wander around at night, so you'd be too disruptive for anyone to have as a roommate."

"Mulder, you didn't," says Scully, horrified, and the glib smile slides slowly off of his face.

"It was the only thing we could think of, Scully," he says. "The whole hotel's completely sold out. Someone had to be bumped to get you your own room, and they wouldn't do it without a good reason... and apparently our being there to protect the pageant wasn't sufficient. We thought it would be easier for the case for you to have your own space... and easier for you, too." He looks penitent, but his eyes are trying to tell her something, and she realizes: this was his idea, her having her own room, but not because of the case.  
Mulder's the one who had stayed with her in the hospital in New York, after she'd been shot. He's the one who had been by her side when the nightmares had begun. And even when her mother had been staying with her back at her apartment, she had still called Mulder in the middle of the night, when Maggie had returned to the guest room and Scully had been unable to get back to sleep.

He's made this arrangement, not because of the case (although she doesn't dispute the advantages), but because he knows her well enough to know how embarrassed she would be to have a complete stranger see her waking sweat-drenched and teary-eyed, like a young child with night terrors.

"Thank you," she says softly, in a voice meant just for him, to show him she understands. Mulder smiles back, relieved. Scully faces forward again to see both Skinner and Elise looking at her and Mulder with their eyebrows raised.

"Anyway," says Elise, going back to her itinerary, "once you're checked into your room, there will be a welcome luncheon, where you'll meet the other contestants."

"Speaking of which," says Scully, "which state will I be representing? And what happened to the woman who was _supposed_ to represent that state?"

"Miss Virginia has dropped out of the pageant," says Elise. "She's cited personal reasons, but hasn't commented any further than that."

"Wasn't she one of the ones receiving threatening letters?" asks Scully, frowning. 

"Yes, she was," says Elise. "But if that played any part in her dropping out, she hasn't said anything." She continues down the itinerary. "There will be something a bit like a dress rehearsal this afternoon- basically the pageant directors will get all the contestants out onstage and figure out where each of you should be positioned at various points during the show."

"That's easy for you, Scully," says Mulder, grinning. "You'll always be right in the front. _Ouch._ " He falls silent as Scully elbows him, hard.

"Then, this evening, you'll start learning the steps to the dance number that opens the pageant." Scully pales and goes very still.

"Dance?" Elise glances up from her list.

"It always opens with a dance," she says. "But don't worry, it's always simple. Plenty of the contestants don't have any formal dance training." Scully's somewhat comforted: if it's simple, it's hopefully not vigorous. "And speaking of dancing and training," Elise continues, "have you thought of something to perform for the talent portion?" Scully goes very stiff. Yesterday, after Mulder and Skinner had left, she'd carefully climbed onto the stool in her closet to retrieve an old shoebox from the top shelf. Even though the last time she'd put them on had been during high school, the shoes inside of the box had still fit. The stiff costumes, however, are still hidden somewhere in Maggie Scully's closet. Retrieving them would likely have meant explaining to Maggie what she's doing, and her mother would likely lose her mind if she knew her daughter was already back in the field, much less undercover.

"I think I have something that might work," says Scully. "I haven't done it in awhile, except every now and then as exercise. It's a... it's a sort of cultural dance. My sister and I took lessons all through school. We used to do competitions together." She's aware of Mulder looking at her in interest. This is something that he does not know about her.

"A _cultural_ dance, Scully?" he asks. "From _your_ culture?" She nods. "What sort of dance do the Irish...." His voice trails off as a slow smile spreads across his face. "Scully," he says, "you do _Riverdance_?"

"It's called Irish stepdancing, Mulder," she snaps. She turns back to Elise. "I still have my hard shoes, and I packed them, but I don't have anything to wear."

"Something tells me we'll be able to find you a dress from somewhere," says Elise, smiling. "Irish dance is _huge_ right now. Half the casinos have a Riverdance-themed floor show. I'll send someone out with your measurements as soon as we land." Scully nods her assent. She has no idea how her sore, abused stomach will handle even the mildest of the routines she once ripped through repeatedly, but she figures that as long as she keeps it short, she'll be okay. And at least she'll be able to keep her upper body still.

"Now, tomorrow night, the pageant officially begins," says Elise.

"We'll have agents planted all over the audience, backstage, in the control room, and up on the catwalks," says Skinner, leaning forward. "We doubt whoever's been doing the threatening will make their move the very first night, but they'll almost certainly be in attendance. We'll be keeping an eye out for anything suspicious."

"And you'll want me doing the same with the contestants," says Scully. Skinner nods.

"Talk to them," he says. "Bellman doesn't want the FBI interviewing any of the contestants openly and directly. We need you to go where we can't. Get them to trust you, to open up to you." Scully nods her understanding calmly, but inside, her gut is churning. When's the last time she's tried to do the female friendship thing? When's the last time she's _had_ a female friend? She hasn't spoken to Ellen or Kathy in years, not since before the cancer. Come to think of it, excluding the Lone Gunmen, when's the last time she's had a friend who isn't Mulder? But still, she nods, figuring she'll just have to do her best.

Kersh appears, flanked by two agents from VCU, Jeff Marino and Dave Young, who are both holding equipment cases in their hands.

"Agent Scully," says Kersh, "we have your surveillance equipment here. We've got a wire inconspicuous enough that you should be able to wear it at all times, regardless of what you have on." So, small enough to fit into a swimsuit, then. Scully is once again glad that Elise is committed to finding her a one-piece. Agent Marino opens the case he's carrying and hands her the wire. "And Agent Young has your body camera." Scully freezes in horror.

"Absolutely not," she says. Kersh's expression darkens.

"This is non-negotiable, Agent Scully," he says. "We need to know what is going on at all times."

"And you will," she says. "You'll hear everything through the wire. But it would be unethical to film these women without their consent, especially in the exact situations that Agent Mulder and A.D. Skinner will not be able to accompany me." Agents Young and Marino, Scully sees, are looking mutinous. The VCU team Kersh has assembled is comprised entirely of men, and she can already picture them gathered eagerly around a video monitor, ogling unsuspecting women as they changed clothing.

Across from Scully, Skinner clears his throat and leans forward. "She's right, Alvin," he says. "You don't have a single female agent on your team, apart from Agent Scully. If it gets out that you were filming contestants changing without their knowledge or permission, it won't reflect well on you." Once again, it's deftly done. Skinner knows Kersh isn't going to be persuaded to drop the camera on ethical grounds, but if there's a chance it could make him look bad, he'll back off.

"Fine," he says shortly, and looks at Scully, his face hardened. "But you will wear the wire at all times while undercover and turn it off only when _only_ in the presence of FBI personnel." He turns and leaves, followed by Marino and Young, who throw Scully a dirty look on their way past.

"Well," says Elise, her eyebrows raised, "he seems pleasant."

"You have no idea," sighs Scully. She looks down at the wire in her hands. "Guess I'd better go and get this hooked up before we land," she says, and stands.

"You should get changed, too, Mr. Skinner," says Elise. Skinner nods shortly.

When Scully returns from the restroom, the wire pinned securely to her bra, Skinner has replaced his dark, sober suit with a set of light linen trousers, a dark leather belt, and a lavender-and-pink button-down that looks like the work of Lily Pulitzer. Scully very determinedly does not look at Mulder as she takes her seat again, knowing that the moment they lock eyes, she'll never be able to contain her laughter.

"Apparently this is a more believable look for a pageant coach," says Skinner gruffly. Scully chances a look at Mulder.

"You don't need to change your clothes?" she asks.

"He should lose the tie," says Elise. "And maybe not find it again when this assignment is over." Scully snorts with laughter as she catches Elise's eye. "But other than that, he'll be fine."

"What's wrong with my tie?" Mulder grouses good-naturedly, loosening the loudly-patterned length of silk from around his neck and stuffing it in a pocket.

"In the eighties, it would have maybe passed as 'eccentric,'" says Elise. "But now, it's just hideous." 

 

\-------------

 

Scully barely has time to take in the splendor of the Bell Tower before they're in the attached parking garage, pulling up to an interior entrance far from the crowds. She enters the hotel flanked by Skinner and Kersh, Mulder having been pushed to the back for the time being. Elise melts away, saying she'll make sure the rooms are ready for them, and Scully is marched to the elevators and whisked all the way to the top floor, where a penthouse suite is held for Allan Bellman's use at all times.

Kersh's knock is answered by a harried-looking assistant, who shows them into an opulently decorated office the size of Scully's entire apartment. Sitting at the head of a long mahogany table is Bellman, who rises to welcome them. He's maybe sixty years old, barrel-chested and narrow-eyed, with a full head of hair that's clearly only staying uniformly dark with the aid of a hairdresser. He shakes hands with Kersh and Skinner, then looks critically at Scully, who offers her hand, as well. Bellman ignores it, standing back and looking at her head to toe, instead.

"Not much to her, is there?" he asks.

Scully tries hard to control the flush she knows is creeping up her neck. Whether it's from anger or from shame, she couldn't say, but she knows that either way, it won't help her here. It's not that she's never heard anything like this, but it _has_ been a long time, and such things are generally said _to_ her, not to the men standing on either side of her as though she herself doesn't exist.

Scully recovers quickly, though, knowing it will be better for her to speak up for herself, rather than let Skinner defend her (she doesn't bother to kid herself that Kersh will say a damn thing). "If you have any doubts about my qualifications, Mr. Bellman," she says, "I can assure you that I am fully-"

"Oh, no, I'm sure you can shoot a gun and push a pencil with the best of them, Sweetie," he says, with a dismissive wave of his hand. "I just mean you got no legs, no tits."

"Hey, look-" Scully cuts Skinner off as quickly as she can.

"I wasn't aware your pageant had either a minimum height or bra size, Mr. Bellman," she says, still holding his gaze, determined not to let him think he's gotten to her. Bellman squints at her a moment longer; then, finally, he laughs.

"Guess you can always make up for it in sass," he says. He gestures for them to sit at the table, which they do, Skinner looking at Scully with an expression that says, all too clearly, that he'd like to apologize on behalf of all men everywhere. Scully shrugs it off.

"Look, the rules I have for you people are simple," says Bellman. "You do what you need to, you go where you need to- except in the girls' hotel rooms and their changing rooms, but that why you've got your little spy- and the only thing I want is that no one, at any time, knows who you are or why you're here. I don't want my girls getting nervous, you understand? And I definitely don't want people staying away because they're worried some nut is gonna try to blow this place up."

"We'll do everything we can to respect that, Mr. Bellman," says Kersh. "But please understand that if it looks like it will be necessary, we won't hesitate to evacuate this building at any time. We understand your need to protect your business interests, but we're here to protect people's lives."

"And I get that," says Bellman. "I do. Why do you think I called you people in? These Knights of Chastity and Morals or Virtue and Prudence or whatever the fuck they're calling themselves, I'm betting they never would've thought I'd involve the feds. You do what you have to to catch them, just make sure you keep it as quiet as you can, you hear?"

"Loud and clear," says Kersh. "I've divided my undercover agents up according to where they'll be, so if you've got someone to be my liaison, we'll get everyone situated and ready to go." Bellman stands.

"Yeah, that's no problem," he says. "I'll hand you off to one of my assistants and they'll take you where you need to go." He fixes Kersh with a stern look. "I want regular updates on this, you understand? I wanna hear from your people every few hours. This needs to get taken care of fast." Scully can see from Kersh's expression that the A.D. resents Bellman's attitude, resents being treated like he's another of Bellman's many, many employees... but Kersh keeps his counsel and nods. Bellman walks to the door, throwing it open.

"Wallace!" he bellows into the hallway. Seconds later, the assistant who had let them into the penthouse appears.

"Wallace is down in the auditorium, Sir," the young man says.

"You're not Wallace?"

"No, Sir, I'm Stephen," the assistant says. Bellman gives a dismissive wave of his hand.

"Whoever you are. Take these guys downstairs and show them where their people need to go, would you? And then get back up here. We're not done with those phone calls yet."

"Yes, Mr. Bellman," says Stephen. Bellman waves them out of his office. As Scully passes, he gives her one more critical once-over.

"Put some more makeup on her," he says. "My girls, they practically paint their damn faces on in the morning. Wouldn't want her to stand out any more than she already does, am I right?" With that, he slams the office door. Scully strides past the men without looking at them, without waiting for Stephen to lead them, afraid that if she meets any of their eyes, she'll cry.

 

\---------------------

 

Downstairs in the lobby, Mulder is leaning against the wall by the elevators, watching as the forty-nine other contestants arrive and make their way upstairs. Most days, his kid-in-a-candy-shop expression would make Scully roll her eyes, but today, right now, it infuriates her.

"Put your tongue back in your mouth, Mulder," she hisses at him angrily, and he looks down at her, bewildered.

"What's gotten into you?" he asks.

"Nothing," she snaps. "You're just acting like you've never seen a beautiful woman before, and with your video collection, I _know_ that's not the case." Before Mulder can respond, Skinner joins them.

"I've got our room keys," he says. "Elise is somewhere getting your clothing organized, Scully. Want to go up for a few minutes before you have to be at the welcome luncheon?" Scully nods, and the three of them get in an elevator together. When the doors are closed, Skinner turns to Scully. "Agent Scully, I'm sorry about what happened back there. I hope you understand why Kersh-"

"Why he said nothing?" Scully interrupts him. "I do. I'm a big girl, Sir. I can look out for myself." Mulder looks back and forth between them, frowning.

"What are you talking about?" he asks. "What happened?" Scully says nothing. She's tired, she's humiliated, the pain in her stomach is ratcheting up to a level she'd hoped was a thing of the past, and all she wants is to get to her room so she can take some painkillers and lie down for a few minutes.

"Allan Bellman, as it turns out," says Skinner, when Scully makes no move to explain, "is every bit the jerk that the tabloids make him out to be."

"Scully, what did he say to you?" demands Mulder.

"Nothing," she says, sighing. "Can we just drop it, please?"

"Scully-"

" _Please_ , Mulder. Forget about it." He's not happy about it, that much is clear, but he acquiesces, and the rest of the ride is made in silence.

If she were in the mood to enjoy it, Scully thinks to herself a few minutes later as she sits on the edge of a plush king-sized bed, she would probably be thrilled with her hotel room. It's worlds away from the places she'd usually stay with Mulder... though one thing is the same, and that constant makes itself known almost immediately, with a knock on the connecting door. She thinks about ignoring it, but she knows he'll only keep knocking, so with a sigh, Scully opens the door and lets Mulder in.

"Skinner's gone down ahead of us," he says as he shuts the door behind him. "So are you gonna tell me what Bellman said to you, or am I gonna have to annoy Skinner until he cracks?"

"Mulder, honestly, it was nothing," she says.

"Whatever it was, it had you riled up pretty good," Mulder says. "Come on, partner. Spill it."

"He just insinuated that I don't belong in this pageant, Mulder," Scully says. "He said I don't have the build for it. Which- let's face it- I don't. I'm completely out of place here. Men don't look at me the way... the way you were looking at those women downstairs."

"Scully," says Mulder, "if you ever caught me looking at you like that, you'd kick my ass. Doesn't mean I don't look at you like that when your back is turned." He puts an arm around her shoulders and gives her a squeeze. "Come on, don't let whatever he said get to you. You turn heads everywhere you go, you just never notice because you're too busy trying to keep me from getting myself killed." Scully lets out a shaky laugh and leans into him.

"I feel so stupid, letting this get to me," she admits. "I'm not usually this insecure. And to be honest... it's not even the things he said, Mulder. It was the _way_ he said them, the way he said them to Skinner and Kersh, over my head like I wasn't even there." She frowns. "It's like he refused to acknowledge me as existing until I made him speak to me directly, and even then, he looked at me like I was a child, interrupting him."

"Well, being a billionaire casino owner doesn't mean he can't be a misogynist, too," says Mulder. "Next time you have to talk to him, take me with you, okay?"

"And get the entire bureau sued when you try to attack him?" She shakes her head. "I don't think so, Mulder."

"He makes you uneasy, Scully," says Mulder. "And you've got good instincts. If he makes you nervous, I want to see him for myself. I'm not ruling him out as a suspect just because he reported the threats to the FBI. Stranger things have happened."

"Fine, Mulder," Scully says. "But you need to be on your best behavior and keep your mouth _shut_." Mulder gives her a crooked grin.

"Stay quiet while you're being insulted? You've got a lot of faith in me, Scully. I make no promises."


	4. Chapter 4

Standing in the elevator with Mulder, Skinner, and Elise, Scully has a sudden thought.

"I can't believe this hasn't already crossed my mind," she says, "but... what's my name? My undercover name. I have one, don't I?"

"Katherine Hale," says Skinner. "Of Alexandria, Virginia." Scully's eyebrows lift as she looks at Mulder.

"Your choice?" He nods and grins, a little bashfully, and she can't help but smile. That his chosen alias for her would have the same surname as the one he most often uses for himself... she tries hard not to analyze what that might mean. In any case, she and Mulder need to stop staring at each other like this, because Elise and Skinner are watching them curiously. Out of the corner of her eye, Scully sees them exchanging a pointed glance, and she clears her throat, jerking her gaze from Mulder's. She determinedly ignores the look Elise is giving her.

"What can I expect at the luncheon?" Scully asks her.

"It's just a meet-and-greet, really," says Elise. "Nothing too intimidating, I promise. You'll have a chance to chat with the women sitting with you while you eat, and as you're finishing up, you'll hear remarks from Selena Flores, last year's winner, and when she's done, Mr. Bellman will address the group. Then you'll be in your dress rehearsal for three hours, then a break for dinner, and then it's back to the theater to learn your dance steps." Scully nods.

"We'll regroup in the hotel room tonight," says Skinner. "Kersh has set up a command center in one of the hotel conference rooms, and until tonight, that's where Elise and Mulder will be." Elise smiles at Mulder, and Scully feels an unwelcome twinge somewhere in her gut. _Not now,_ she tells herself firmly. 

"So you'll be with me, Sir?" she asks Skinner.

"In the wings," Skinner confirms. "Though what I'm supposed to do there, I have no idea."

"Just watch, pretend to take notes on Dana's poise and behavior, take notes on the competition, that sort of thing." Skinner raises his eyebrows at Scully.

"I'm not used to taking notes on _your_ behavior," he comments, and Mulder smirks. The elevator car comes to rest before he can think up a witty retort, however. As the doors open and the four of them exit, Elise reaches out and catches Scully's arm.

"You two go ahead," she says to Skinner and Mulder. "I need to speak with Dana in private for a moment." Mulder's eyebrows are raised, but he and Skinner acquiesce without complaint, and Elise draws Scully a short distance away. "Listen, Dana," she says, her voice low, "I can guess you might be feeling a little bit apprehensive right now." Scully chuckles nervously.

"I'm feeling a little bit out of my element, to say the least," she agrees. She's not sure what it is about Elise that sets her at ease, but somehow, it doesn't even occur to her to pretend to be fine, to pretend that she's not extremely nervous.

"It's totally understandable," says Elise. "But I want you to remember something important, okay?" Scully nods. "No matter how confident, how poised, how above-it-all the women you're about to meet might seem to you, I promise you, they're all every bit as nervous as you are. It might be hard to believe, but I’ve coached dozens of women just like them, and trust me when I tell you that they all have insecurities, they're all scared, and they're all plenty concerned with whether or not they match up to everyone else in the room- you included." She gives Scully's shoulder a friendly squeeze.

"I'll try to keep that in mind," says Scully. Elise gives her another encouraging smile, then takes her arm, leading her back to Skinner and Mulder. The latter gives her a questioning look, but Scully shakes her head shortly.

"This is where we leave you, at least for now," says Elise, as they approach the door to the room housing the welcome luncheon. Scully's gaze flies to Skinner.

"You, too?" He nods.

"I've been told that you showing up to the luncheon with your coach would be the equivalent of heading off to college with a nanny in tow," he says, and Elise nods emphatically. "Don't worry, you'll be fine."

"We'll be a room away," says Mulder. "And I'll be right in your ear the whole time. One of those beauty queens looks at you funny, you just say the word, and I'll take her down before you can blink." Scully rolls her eyes, but she can't entirely suppress a smile.

"Don't hold your breath, Mulder," she says. "You'd probably enjoy that too much."

 

\---------------

 

Scully's heart is pounding so hard as she enters the dining room that she's almost certain Mulder must be able to hear it through the tiny microphone attached to her bra. She takes deep, even breaths, trying to steady herself, and looks around at the assembled women. Just as she'd suspected, from what she can see so far, she's going to stand out, and not in a way that screams "Future Miss United States," either. As she makes her way through the tables, scanning the place cards for her name (reminding herself with each step to look for her undercover name and not her real one), she feels the eyes of the other contestants on her, watching her pass with frank curiosity. 

On a purely rational level, she knows they're only looking at her because she's an unknown, a last-second replacement for a contestant whose performance they've probably all watched tapes of in preparation for this competition. It's still unnerving, though, and her discomfort grows with each step. 

Scully doesn't remember the last time she's been in the company of this many women at once. She's spent the last ten years, from the start of medical school onward, in male-dominated environments, and with the exception of the occasional bachelorette party or baby shower, she's become accustomed to being one of the only women in the room at any given moment.

Even though the accompanying earpiece is extremely tiny, and even though Elise has carefully styled her hair to keep the ear housing it hidden, Scully is still paranoid that someone's going to see it... but the moment she hears Mulder's voice in her ear, easing the knot in her stomach somewhat, she's immediately glad she agreed to wear it.

"Keep your head up in there, Scully," he says, his voice quiet and reassuring, sounding almost as though he's standing at her shoulder. If she tries, she can almost imagine that she can feel his hand resting at its accustomed place on her lower back, guiding her through the tables. "Elise says to remember what she told you. Whatever that is." Scully just barely keeps her lips from turning up. Trust Mulder to make her want to laugh in the middle of all of this... and trust Mulder to not be able to handle not knowing what Elise had said to her.

Still, the reminder is exactly what Scully needs, and she holds her head up just a little higher as she continues on through the room. Near the stage, she finally locates her seat at a half-full table. The women already in their seats smile welcomingly up at her. None of them _look_ like they're capable of clawing her eyes out in pursuit of the crown, and Scully manages to smile back at them.

"You must be Katherine Hale," says the woman sitting nearest to her. She has striking green eyes and masses of brown hair falling in loose ringlets down her back. "I'm Monica Fischer. Michigan." She offers a perfectly manicured hand for Scully to shake. The other women around the table offer theirs in turn.

"Tina Fitzsimmons. California." A statuesque black woman with close-cropped hair and the most alluring eyes Scully's ever seen. In the back of Scully's mind, she notes that this is one of the women who has been receiving threats. At the same moment, Mulder hisses the exact same information into her ear.

"Stephanie Price. Minnesota." The blondest woman Scully has ever met in her entire life. Her hair is nearly white, her skin is pale and flawless, and her eyes are silver-blue.

"Wait, wait, hold the introductions, I'm here!" comes a loud, drawling voice from behind Scully, making her jump. The voice's owner is grinning brashly from beneath masses of curly auburn hair as she advances on the table, her blue eyes sparkling. "Tessa Gillman. Texas." She gives Scully's hand a forceful pump, then shakes hands with the other women at the table. "They lost my luggage at the airport, sent it to the wrong baggage carousel or something, can you just imagine? It took _ages_ to find it. I thought I was gonna miss the whole thing." She shakes her head, still beaming, as though misplacing suitcases full of expensive gowns were an adventure and not a potential disaster. "Anyhow, at least I didn't miss the food! I don't know about y'all, but I am _starving_!" She reaches for the glass of ice water sitting by her plate and knocks back a generous swallow, then continues speaking unabated. "Has Bellman done his spiel yet? I saw him pacin' around in the lobby out there, and he saw me, and he made like he was gonna come and say hi, but I high-tailed it in here before he had the chance. No sense in getting any closer than you have to, am I right, ladies?" 

There's a murmur of assent from the others at the table. The atmosphere changes perceptibly, and Tina Fitzsimmons of California becomes suddenly interested in something in her lap. Scully's instincts prick up at once.

"What do you mean?" she asks, frowning in what she hopes looks like polite confusion.

"Ohhh, that's right," says Stephanie. "You were first runner-up in your pageant, weren't you?" Scully nods. "So you didn't have the one-on-one lunch with Bellman the day after."

"No, I didn't," says Scully. "And of course there hasn't been time to do it, with the former Miss Virginia dropping out so suddenly, so close to the national pageant. Why, is Mr. Bellman rude to the winners or something?" The women all exchange pointed looks.

"He's more than a little crass, to be certain," says Monica, "but that's not why nobody enjoys the winner's lunch with him."

"Why, then?" asks Scully.

"Mr. Bellman can be a bit... handsy," says Monica.

"A _bit_?" Tessa shakes her head incredulously. "Try a _lot_! The man is nothing _but_ hands!" The other women nod again, except for Tina, who is still determinedly looking down. Scully makes a mental note of this, but doesn't press her here, in front of people she barely knows.

"Doesn't anyone ever complain?" she asks, instead. 

"Complain?" Tessa laughs. "To _who_?"

"This is his pageant," says Stephanie with a shrug. "His hotel, his casino, his everything. It's not like he's got a boss we can talk to, you know?"

"So nobody ever says anything, to anyone?" asks Scully.

"Nah, better to just grin and bear it," says Tessa. "Mostly, it's no worse than some of the good ol' boys you meet in the receiving lines at events, you know? They ain't fun to deal with, sure, but mostly they don't really cross the line." The other women murmur their assent, except for Tina. Scully wonders if she might be able to get Tina on her own, later, because it's pretty clear that whatever Tina's experience with Mr. Bellman has been, it hasn't been exactly the same as the other contestants.

Their meals are brought out at that moment, and all conversation ceases while they eat. Scully watches her tablemates with interest. She hasn't been sure what to expect with regards to food and eating. _Do_ these women eat? The answer seems to be yes, they do, and they do so with gusto. The food is indisputably healthy, to be sure, but there is a good deal of it. Still, everyone at the table cleans their plate. Studying the women around her intently, Scully can see that they're all in excellent shape- slender, obviously, but not overly thin, and fit, toned. The doctor in her is relieved at this: she'd been imagining emaciated waifs, turning down all but the most low-calorie salads.

As the plates are being taken away, there's a commotion in the wings of the stage at the front of the room, and after a moment, Alan Bellman emerges, along with a lovely young woman wearing a sash and a crown. This, Scully assumes, must be Selena Flores of New Mexico, the reigning Miss United States. From the case notes Mulder had regurgitated on the plane, she knows Miss Flores has received threatening letters, just like Tina Fitzsimmons. If Miss Flores is nervous that the people threatening her might be present today, however, it doesn't show. She seems to be more concerned with keeping a modicum of distance between herself and Mr. Bellman than anything else. They stop in front of the podium that has been set up center-stage, and Miss Flores immediately drops Bellman's arm and steps back.

"Good afternoon, ladies!" Mr. Bellman crows into the microphone. "You girls are looking great! Everybody ready for the games to begin?" The women all applaud. If any of them object to being called "girls," they don't let it show. "Hopefully you're all done eating by now, and hopefully none of you overdid it- gotta fit into those dresses, am I right?" The audience laughs politely. Onstage, Bellman suddenly points a finger at someone sitting on the other side of the room. "Hey there, Miss Vermont, don't think we don't see you trying to shovel in just a little bit more! Put down that fork before you get yourself in trouble, you hear?" He guffaws loudly, and over at her table, Miss Vermont smiles sheepishly, ducking her head, and places her fork down carefully next to her half-eaten meal. Scully's blood is boiling, and she's so angry that it takes a moment for it to register that Mulder's voice is hissing into her earpiece.

"Don't do it, Scully," he's imploring her in a low voice. "I know he's a douche, but if you say anything, he's gonna call the whole thing off." Scully bites her lip so hard she's sure she's drawing blood, but she says nothing.

"I won't keep you long," Bellman continues. "I know you've got dance rehearsals to get to, and I know you'll all want to get to bed early and cram in every last second of that beauty sleep. I just want to take this opportunity to congratulate each and every one of you for making it this far, and wish all of you the best of luck tomorrow. May the best girl win!" As the audience applauds, Bellman turns to Selena Flores. But rather than offer her the microphone, he steps back and slides his arm around her waist, pulling her up against him. She is clearly not happy about this, but she pastes on a smile all the same and waves as she's escorted from the stage. Conversation begins to build around them again, and looking around, Scully can see that she's not the only one who is confused.

"Wasn't she supposed to speak?" Stephanie asks the others quietly. "The reigning Miss United States _always_ addresses the contestants before the pageant starts."

"Maybe she wasn't feeling up to it, for some reason," Monica suggests. Tessa snorts.

"Did y'all see her face?" she asks. "He took her by surprise, grabbing her like that and dragging her offstage. She was _supposed_ to speak, but for some reason Bellman decided not to let her."

"Why would he do that?" Scully asks.

"Maybe he has something he needs her to be doing right now," ventures Tina. "An interview or something like that. All of the past winners have said Mr. Bellman keeps them very busy, right up until the moment they hand the crown over."

"Well, whatever he's got planned for her, he forgot to let her in on it," says Tessa. "If I win, that kinda thing ain't gonna fly with me, I'll tell you that right now." Tina Fitzsimmons abruptly stands.

"Will you ladies excuse me, please?" she says, not meeting any of their eyes. "I'll see you all at the rehearsal." The others smile politely at her, and she leaves, walking quickly.

"Nerves," says Stephanie, sympathetically. "Happens to all of us at one point or another." The other women murmur their agreement... but Scully's not so sure they're right.

Her first order of business, she decides, is going to be making friends with Miss Tina Fitzsimmons of California.


	5. Chapter 5

"Left turn, one-two-three, right turn, one-two-three, back, back, back! Arms up high, ladies! Smiles on! Shoulders back! And... left kick- come on, higher than that! Now sashay right, two, three, and kick! Kick! Let's go, girls, I _know_ your legs go higher than that!"

Scully's entire abdomen is on fire. Her breath is coming in short, shallow pants, and it's taking everything she's got to keep going, to keep moving, to finish the eleventh repetition of the dance routine with the rest of the contestants. So far, she's managed to play it off as being winded- some of the other women are out of breath and definitely lagging behind on their steps- but if they don't take a break soon, she's not going to be able to go on.

Scully catches a glimpse of Skinner standing in the wings, with a handful of other pageant coaches, holding a notebook at the ready, pretending to take notes. He's looking decidedly concerned, and Scully waves him off with a subtle shake of her head. The last thing she needs is Skinner making her stand out more than she already does by requesting a break for her when none of the other women are asking for one. But luckily, at that moment the dance instructor, an obscenely fit woman named Miranda, hits a button on the remote she's holding, killing the music.

"Okay, ladies! Ten minutes to stretch and grab some water, and then we'll finish up!" Sighing in relief, the women disperse, retrieving water bottles and sweat towels from back stage. The moment Scully takes a step, however, the shooting pains in her abdomen stop her cold. She gasps, her hand flying to her stomach. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Skinner heading towards her, looking extremely worried, probably about to pull her from the case and send her back to Washington... but before he can get there, there's a voice at Scully's shoulder.

"Stomach cramp?" Tina Fitzsimmons of California is standing by Scully's side, looking concerned. Scully manages something close to a smile.

"That obvious, huh?" she asks, trying not to gasp.

"Happens to me all the time," says Tina, her face kind. "Here, let me show you what works for me." She reaches out and takes Scully's right arm. "It's your right side?" Scully nods. "Okay. Stretch your arm up like this." She extends Scully's arm above her head and slightly to the left. "Keep your left hand over the cramp and stretch your body to the left as much as you can." Scully obeys, hoping like hell that she's not doing further damage. "If you can stand to, try walking slowly. Exhale every time your foot comes down on the right side." Scully takes a few tentative steps, Tina at her side.

"I think it's helping," Scully says. “It’s getting a little bit better." 

"Do you have a water bottle? Let me get it for you."

"My coach has it," Scully says, nodding towards the wings. "The bald guy in the loud shirt." Skinner's easy for Tina to spot, and she jogs over to him. They exchange a few words, and while Tina's distracted, Scully sneaks out the Vicodin she's secreted in the waist pocket of her stretch pants. She pops it into her mouth, grimacing at the bitter taste, and takes a massive swig from the water bottle when Tina returns with it, swallowing the pill.

"Feeling better?" Tina asks, still looking concerned. _No_ , Scully thinks, _but I will in a minute._

"I am, actually," she says, out loud. "With all the excitement over the past couple of weeks, finding out I was coming here and everything, I've definitely let my exercise regime fall by the wayside more than I should. I guess I'm paying for it now."

"I can't imagine what that must have been like," says Tina sympathetically. "Most of us have known we'd be here for months, and it still never seems like there's enough time to get everything done!"

"Tell me about it," says Scully. "I'm so paranoid I've forgotten something important, that my swimsuit is still folded in a drawer at home or my costume for the talent competition is still at the dry cleaner's back in Arlington."

"At least you've got your coach, though," says Tina. "That's got to make things easier."

"Oh, absolutely," Scully agrees. "I don't know how I'd be getting through it all without...." Her voice falters as she realizes: if Skinner has a code name, he's neglected to share it with her. She decides to take the easiest route. "Without Walt."

"I don't think I've ever seen him around before. Is he new?"

"I'm his first at this level," Scully says. She's going to need to fill Skinner in on his life story the first chance she gets. "But he's been just great. Just the right combination of tough and supportive."

"That is _so_ hard to find," says Tina. 

Just then, there's a commotion at the back of the theater, and Allan Bellman enters, surrounded by a virtual army of security and assistants. He strides towards the stage.

"Miranda," he bellows, and the dance instructor comes scurrying out from the wings.

"Mr. Bellman!" she exclaims. "We weren't expecting you!"

"I wanna see how the girls are doing," he says, dropping ungracefully into a seat in the front row. His entourage lingers in the aisles, waiting to do his bidding. "Have 'em run through the routine from the top, would ya? Good girl." If Miranda objects to being addressed this way, she doesn't show it. She turns to the women standing around the stage.

"All right, ladies," she says, clapping her hands. "Take your places, please!" There's a flurry of activity as the women stash their water bottles and towels back in the wings. Scully hands hers off to Skinner, who's still looking concerned.

"You okay?" he whispers.

"Fine," she says, and before he can question her further, she rushes back out onto the stage, taking her place in the front of the group. She can almost picture Mulder's smirk at her placement, at the height difference between her and the other women. She's definitely glad he's not only not in the room, but not plugged into her ear (with her hair pulled back, the earpiece is too hard to hide, and anyway Skinner's on hand if she needs anything). If he could hear the way she's breathing, he'd be dragging her offstage and back to her hotel room to rest.

The music begins, and the women run through the dance number they've spent the entire evening learning. Scully's movements may not be textbook-perfect, but she's where she needs to be when she needs to be there, and she thinks that, at the very least, she won't draw anyone's attention for the wrong reasons. They'll do this dance once, at the pageant's opening, and then she won't have to worry about it any more.

She's trying very, very hard not to think of the prospect of the talent competition, when she'll have to dance again. Alone.

When the number finishes, Bellman doesn't applaud. His already-narrow eyes are narrowed further, and his lips are pursed, and Scully can't tell if he's pleased or not... but after a moment, he nods decisively and stands, climbing onto the stage.

"Good, good," he says, mainly to Miranda. "Just do it like that tomorrow, okay, girls?" He squints again, looking at something in particular. "Miss California, you got a wig or something you can wear?" Scully looks back to see Tina frowning.

"Why?" she asks.

“‘Cause the short-hair look, I hate to say it, but it ain’t really Miss United States, now, is it?” He shakes his head. “People think of beauty queens, they think of long, flowing hair. Something you can curl up all fancy, you know?” Tina’s eyes narrow dangerously, but before she can respond, Scully speaks up. She can’t help it.

“Do _all_ the short-haired contestants need wigs, then, Mr. Bellman?” she asks. Bellman glares at her… but to Scully’s shock, others join in.

“Yeah, what about me?” calls out Miss Florida, whose mahogany hair is close-cropped in a pixie cut. 

“There have been short-haired winners in the past,” says Miss Delaware, whose blond curls just barely brush her shoulders. “Long hair doesn’t work for everyone, you know.” At the others’ words, Tina seems to stand a little taller.

“I won my Miss California title with my hair just like this,” she says, her voice firm. “No need to mess with a winning formula.” Bellman eyes her for another moment, but finally, he shrugs.

“No skin off my nose,” he says. “You do what you want.” He levels a cool look at Scully, who doesn’t flinch, and turns to leave. “See you all tomorrow night,” he calls over his shoulder, and with his entourage buzzing in his wake, he exits the theater.

“All right, ladies,” says Miranda, clapping her hands, looking relieved, “I think that’s enough for tonight. Be back here at two o’clock tomorrow afternoon, and we’ll run through it a few more times before the show opens.”

Skinner approaches Scully as she’s making her way offstage.

“You just had to open your mouth, didn’t you?” he mumbles, not loudly enough to be overheard. “We’re not here to educate Bellman on the finer points of feminism. We’re here to find out who’s threatening him and his pageant.” Scully’s not really paying attention; she’s trying to see where Tina’s gone.

“Do you see her?” she asks. “You’re taller than me. I can’t see over anyone’s heads.”

“See who?”

“Tina,” says Scully. “Miss California. The one Bellman was picking on, the one who got my water bottle from you. I’m getting the feeling she might know something about what’s going on.” Skinner scans the mass of women and pageant coaches exiting the theater around them.

“Ahead of us,” he says. “About to go out the door.”

“I’ll meet you back upstairs, all right?” Scully says. “I want to talk to her alone.” Without waiting for an answer, she shoulders her way through until she spots Tina’s dark head ducking through the auditorium doors. Scully slips out after her, and in spite of the pain flaring once again in her abdomen, jogs the handful of steps left until she’s by her side. Tina looks down at her.

“I didn’t get a chance to thank you,” Scully says to her. “For helping me out with that stupid cramp.” Tina’s face relaxes into a smile.

“No problem,” she says. “I feel like I should be thanking _you_ , for taking some of the focus off of me back there.”

“He’s a real piece of work, isn’t he?” remarks Scully, shaking her head as she and Tina approach the elevators. 

“Bellman?” Scully nods. “Yeah, he is,” Tina sighs. “But it’s like the others at our table said at lunch today, isn’t it? This is his pageant, and he doesn’t answer to anybody but himself. He’s gonna behave however he wants to.”

“It makes me think I definitely got off light, not having that one-on-one luncheon the day after the Miss Virginia pageant,” Scully comments. An elevator arrives and opens with a muted ding, and she and Tina step into it. “I guess the original Miss Virginia had to, though.” She glances sideways at Tina, whose jaw is tightly clenched. She decides to run with her instincts. “I hate to think of him this way,” she says, keeping her voice low, “but… I wonder if something might have happened? She didn’t give a reason for dropping out, but….” Tina slowly turns towards Scully. There’s something in her eyes, a familiar look, and after a moment, Scully has it pegged.

Recognition.

“Tina,” she whispers, “did something happen at _your_ luncheon?” Tina closes her eyes, and after a moment, she opens her mouth to speak.

“Got room for a few more, gals?” The loud, drawling voice makes both Tina and Scully jump. Tess has caught the closing doors and is shouldering her way into the elevator, followed by five other contestants. Scully pastes on the friendliest smile she can muster, trying not to curse Tess in her head. The car arrives at their floor, and by the time Scully makes it out into the hallway, Tina is already disappearing around the corner.

Sighing in resignation, Scully unlocks the door to her hotel room- and finds all of the lights, as well as the television, turned on. Mulder is sprawled across the middle of her bed, examining a sheaf of notes and getting sunflower seed shells absolutely everywhere. He looks up at she enters and grins broadly.

“Hey, you’re back!” he exclaims. “I was starting to think they were gonna keep you dancing all night.”

“Mulder, what on earth are you doing in here?” Scully demands.

“Waiting for you, obviously,” he replies, totally unapologetic. “Skinner said earlier that he was going to meet with Kersh when you two finished up, and then go to bed. I told him I’d sit with you and go over everything we have so far.” He sits up and pats the mattress next to him. “Wanna join me?” She crosses slowly to the bed and lowers herself gingerly to sit at the edge, trying- and failing- to hide her grimace from him. He’s instantly concerned. “You okay, Scully?”

“Fine,” she hisses. “It was just… a lot of dancing. Too much moving around at the end of a long day of travel.” She lets out a deep breath as she settles onto the mattress. “Listen, Mulder, can we reconvene over breakfast tomorrow?” Mulder frowns at his watch.

“It’s not even nine o’clock yet, Scully,” he protests. “Can’t we get this done quickly while everything’s still fresh in our minds?” 

“I really just want to take a hot bath,” she complains. “I’m exhausted, I’m sore, and I can’t take another pain pill for at least six hours.”

“No reason you can’t do that,” says Mulder. “I’ll sit on the bathroom floor with my notes. I bet we can be finished before the water gets cold.”

“Mulderrrr….”

“Come on, Scully,” he says. “I promise not to peek.” He gives her his best puppy-dog eyes, and she heaves a sigh. He’s not going to let it go.

“Fine,” she snaps, and laboriously pushes herself back up off the bed. “Wait here and I’ll call you in when I’m ready, okay?” She lurches towards her suitcase and retrieves her robe and pajamas, then makes her way to the bathroom, which she hasn’t even had the chance to inspect yet, though she’s been thinking about it all day.

She’s not disappointed. It’s bigger than her bathroom at home and boasts an enormous jetted tub, compete with headrest at the end opposite the faucet. Scully can’t help letting out a low groan of pleasure.

As she approaches the tub, Scully notices something else. Sitting on the shelf of porcelain along the wall is a bottle of expensive lavender-scented bubble bath, and beside it is a jar of bath salts, the sort meant to soothe sore muscles.   
It occurs to Scully, as she’s dumping half the contents of both the bottle and the jar under the hot, running water, that the toiletries might cost extra to use, like items in the minibar, but at this point, she couldn’t care less.

When the tub is filled to the brim with hot water and lavender-scented bubbles, Scully eases herself in slowly, closing her eyes in ecstasy as the heat seeps into her bones. She glances down to make sure the bubbles are thick enough to hide everything, then rests her head on the padded leather headrest.

“Okay, Mulder,” she calls. “The coast is all clear.” There’s the sound of feet on the carpet, and a moment later, Mulder pushes open the bathroom door, his files and notes in his hands and his eyes on the floor. Scully chuckles. “It’s okay, the bubbles are covering everything. You’re safe.”

“Debatable,” says Mulder, sneaking a look up at her and grinning through an embarrassed blush. He seats himself on the floor near her feet, resting his back against the side of the tub. He pulls his notes out from a folder and spreads them out on the floor around his feet. "Okay, so, where are we now?"

"Las Vegas," grumbles Scully, relaxing into the hot water, in no way eager to return to agonizing over the case. Mulder turns his head enough to give her a pointed look. "Fine, fine. Here's what I've found out." She sits up straighter in the tub, and Mulder turns quickly around as the tops of her breasts become visible above the bubbles. "Alan Bellman is every inch as terrible a person as he's rumored to be."

"I heard enough from your meeting with him this morning to know that," says Mulder. "What else?"

"I'm all but certain that something happened between him and Tina- Miss California- during her private lunch with him the day after the state pageant. And I think- I'm not sure, but I strongly suspect- that he may have had something to do with the former Miss Virginia dropping out of the national competition." Mulder looks up at her again, eyebrows raised. 

"What are you basing that on?" he asks.

"Instinct, mostly," she admits. "It's clear that he took some liberties with Tina, and she's still obviously very upset about it. I _almost_ got her to open up to me about whatever happened... but we were interrupted and she clammed back up."

"So what makes you think something happened with Miss Virginia?"

"Like I said, instinct," Scully says. 

"Well, your instincts are usually good," Mulder concedes. "See if you can get Tina to tell you what happened with her. I don't know if it's related to the threats or not, but there's always a chance it could be."

"Bellman was picking on her during rehearsal tonight," Scully says.

"I didn't even know he was watching the rehearsal," says Mulder.

"He didn't, mostly. He just came in at the very end and watched us run through the routine once. And then when we finished, he came up onstage and asked Tina if she had a wig she could wear."

"A wig? Why?"

"According to him, short hair isn't what people think of when they picture a beauty queen," Scully explains. Mulder turns to look at her again, his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Scully, did you-"

"Say something? You're damn right I did." Mulder turns, leaning his head back against the tub and sighing. "And when I spoke up, other women did, too, and he backed down. I'm not sorry at all, so don't expect me to be."

"I know you're not," says Mulder. "And I'm with you on this, you know that. But if Bellman complains to Kersh, _he's_ not gonna be with you. And if Bellman demands that he pull you off the case, we lose our eyes on the inside." 

"I don't think he'll go to Kersh," Scully says. "I can't see him admitting to another man that he backed down because a bunch of women stood up to him." Mulder stays silent. "But I'll do my best not to let it happen again. Not promising anything, though. That man disgusts me."

"He disgusts me, too, Scully," says Mulder. "I just don't want to see you disciplined because of him."

"I know." She sinks a little deeper into the water. "Anyway... I'll keep trying to get Tina to talk. And I'll work on getting close to the other women who've received threats, as well." Mulder nods. "How about you? What did you learn while I was at rehearsal?"

"I learned where the hotel pool is located," says Mulder. "And I also learned that it's too full of families with children during daylight hours for swimming laps. Oh, and I learned where the gym is. And the gift shop." He shrugs. "Basically, Elise took me on a tour of the hotel, since she's been here so many times." Scully goes very still.

"Oh," she says. "Did she have any other useful information to impart?"

"Just that she thinks you're superwoman," says Mulder. Scully laughs. "I'm serious. She kept talking about how impressed she is by you. Had lots of questions for me, too." Scully frowns.

"Like what?"

"What you do for fun, what you're interested in, that sort of thing." He shakes his head, bemused. "I half-expected her to ask if you were seeing anyone."

"I think she's more likely to ask _you_ that," Scully ventures.

"Nah, she didn't ask anything about me at all. Totally bruised my ego." He gathers up his notes and tucks them back into his folder. "Listen, I think I'm gonna go see if that crowd at the pool has thinned out," he says. "I could stand to get a few laps in before bed."

"Okay," says Scully. "Hey, can you do me a favor? If you and Skinner don't use the bubble bath and bath salts in your room- which I doubt you will- can you snag them for me? This stuff is _amazing._ "

"There isn't any in our room," says Mulder, looking up at her with raised eyebrows.

"Oh, is it just in the contestants' rooms, then? That's nice of them."

"Scully," says Mulder, smiling, "that stuff was from the gift shop. I bought it earlier today, while you were in rehearsal. I, uh... I had a strong suspicion you'd want one of your hour-long baths when you finished up tonight." Scully feels warm all over. A soft smile creeps onto her face.

" _You_ bought it for me?" He nods. "I... wow, Mulder. Thank you. That was incredibly thoughtful." He smiles. 

"No problem, Scully." He turns and opens the bathroom door.

"Hey, Mulder?" He stops and turns, looking back at her. She almost freezes, almost loses her nerve and doesn't ask the question that's been on her mind all day. But the heat surrounding her, the bath that seems to have become even warmer and more comforting now that she knows that it's Mulder who's provided it, gives her confidence. "The name you picked for me. My undercover name."

"Katherine Hale," he says. She nods.

"Was that... did you pick that because... did you pick that just because it was the first thing that popped into your mind?" Mulder smiles softly.

"No," he says. "That's not why I picked it." Scully feels a deep flush of pleasure creeping up her chest and over her face. "Goodnight, Scully," Mulder says, and leaves, closing the bathroom door gently behind him.


	6. Chapter 6

Even though she’s managed her first uninterrupted night of sleep since her shooting, Scully still wakes up exhausted, and the day begins far earlier than she would have liked. Skinner, Mulder, and Elise converge on her hotel room within fifteen minutes of her alarm going off, and all four of them order breakfast from room service, rather than taking the time to go down to the dining room. While they wait for their food to be brought up to them, Elise gives them the schedule for the day.

“Tonight’s the official start of the pageant,” she says. “Your call time is six o’clock, two hours before the curtain goes up. Until then, though, the only two events you’ll need to attend are one last dance rehearsal, which is at eleven, and a rehearsal for the talent portion.” Scully bites her lip nervously. Two dance rehearsals, plus the performance tonight? There won’t be enough Vicodin in the world… or at least not left in her prescription bottle. 

“What time is the talent rehearsal?” she asks.

“Each contestant has a fifteen-minute slot, and yours is at one-thirty this afternoon,” says Elise. “The rehearsal is more for the crew than it is for the performers. They need to get a copy of your music, see how long you’ll be onstage, and where you’ll be, so they can put together a lighting design. It doesn’t take long. And beyond that, you’re free for today.”

“How free?” asks Scully. “Lounge-around-the-pool free, or five-strategizing-sessions-before-lunch free?”

“Somewhere in between,” says Skinner. “We do have things we need to go over, but you also need to take it easy as much as you can. It’s going to be a long night.”

“Tonight will start with the group dance number,” says Elise. “Then you’ll have the first round of interviews.” 

“I completely forgot about the interview portion,” groans Scully. Elise smiles.

“Don’t worry too much about it,” she advises. “Each contestant only gets one question in the first round. Otherwise, with fifty women, it would take all night.” Scully nods, somewhat relieved. “Then the night will finish with the swimsuit competition.” Scully frowns.

“No talent portion?” she asks.

“That’s the next night,” says Elise. “For the top twenty-five, anyway. After the swimsuit portion is over tonight, you’ll all change back into the evening gown you wore for your interview, and they’ll end the first night by announcing who’s made the cut.” Scully brightens.

“So I might not ever have to perform my talent portion at all?”

“You’re guaranteed to make the top eight,” says Skinner. “To make sure you’re on hand as long as possible.” It makes sense, but still, Scully’s disappointed.

“Don’t worry, Scully,” says Mulder, giving her a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “You’ll do fine.” He’s smiling in a way that says, all too clearly, that he’s looking forward to it tremendously, and Scully just barely manages to resist giving him an impromptu shower with the orange juice that has just arrived.

As soon as breakfast is over, Mulder and Skinner leave to meet Kersh and the profiling team, and Elise stays behind to help Scully get ready.

“I had this delivered to your room last night, while you were in your rehearsal,” she says, unzipping a garment bag hanging on the end of a rack in the corner of the room. “Someone from the Luxor brought it over in the afternoon. It’s on loan from one of their floor shows.” She holds up a bright green velvet dress of the sort worn by Irish dancers- long-sleeved, close-fitted through the bodice, with a flared skirt that’s meant to hit the dancer at about mid-thigh. A complicated Celtic knot work pattern is embroidered across the front in silver. “Try it on,” says Elise, passing it to her. “The wardrobe mistress at the Luxor says they have other sizes, but I’m pretty sure this will fit.”

And fit it does. Standing in front of the full-length mirror, Scully has a strong sense of having been transported fifteen years into the past, back to high school, when she and Melissa had practiced their routines together nearly every afternoon. Their mother had driven them to competitions all over California, and once, when Missy had been a senior and Dana a sophomore, they had qualified for Nationals. They hadn’t, however, been able to attend the competition- their father had been at sea, there hadn’t been anyone to watch Charlie (Bill had already been away at school), and anyway, they hadn’t really been able to afford it. Airfare for three, plus hotel rooms and a week of restaurant meals, were a bit much to afford on a Navy man’s salary.

For a moment, standing in front of the mirror, Scully misses her sister more than ever. Missy would have gotten a huge kick out of this, out of the idea that even though they’d been denied the chance to dance in that long-ago competition, her little sister is still going to be dancing in front of the entire country.

“Perfect,” says Elise, grinning at Scully and jerking her out of her reverie. “The judges are going to eat you up.”

“I feel a little ridiculous,” Scully confesses.

“Don’t,” laughs Elise, patting her shoulder. “I’ve seen some truly ridiculous talent performances over the years. This won’t be one of them, I’m sure.” She rifles through the garment rack and pulls off a hanger holding a royal blue one-piece swimsuit. “Try this on next,” she says, handing it to Scully, who takes it into the bathroom.

True to her word, Elise has made sure to secure Scully a one-piece bathing suit that manages to cover what it needs to while still showing off her figure. The neckline plunges dramatically, it’s true, and there are large, geometric cut-outs in the sides, but the gunshot scar is covered, with several inches to spare, so that even if the suit shifts (which Scully doubts it will- it fits like a glove), it will still be covered. Scully imagines, for a fleeting, private moment, what Mulder’s reaction will be when he sees her wearing this, and she flushes all over.

Elise nods approvingly when Scully comes out of the bathroom.

“Do you feel comfortable in it?” she asks, and Scully laughs shortly.

“Comfortable? No,” she says. “Exposed? Definitely.” She looks down at herself. She hasn’t shown this much skin in public since her bikini days on the beaches of San Diego in high school. “But everything’s covered that needs to be.” She smiles gratefully at Elise. “Thank you for finding this,” she says. “It’s probably the best I could hope for under the circumstances.” Elise smiles.

“Not a problem at all,” she says. She crosses to the clothing rack and unzips another garment bag. “We’ve got a killer evening gown for you to wear tonight,” she tells Scully, “but obviously, we’re not going to make you walk around in it all day.” She takes out a pale lavender pantsuit and passes it to Scully. “This should be a little more comfortable.”

“Finally, a piece of clothing I recognize,” Scully says, laughing as she looks at the suit. The cut is perfect, definitely something she’d choose for herself, though not in this color- at least, not for work. “Where’s the blouse to put under it?”

“There isn’t one,” says Elise. Scully raises her eyebrows. The jacket closes fairly high on the chest, it’s true, but still… there’s going to be an awful lot more of her chest exposed than usual.

Once again, she thinks of Mulder, and once again, she goes warm and red all over.

Once Scully’s showered and dressed in the suit, a matching pair of heels on her feet, Elise sits her down in front of the mirrored vanity and goes to work on her hair. There’s not much opportunity for conversation while the blow dryer’s running, but once she moves on to the flat iron and brush, Elise gets talkative.

“So, how long have you and Agent Mulder been together?” she asks.

“I was assigned to work with him a little less than seven years ago,” Scully says. Elise cocks her head to the side.

“Oh, no, I meant how long have you been _together_?” she asks.

“Um….” Scully’s taken aback. “We’re not… that is, Mulder and I, we’re not like that,” she says.

“Oh!” Elise’s eyes are wide with surprise. “Gosh, I’m sorry, Dana. I didn’t mean to be presumptuous.”

“No, it’s fine,” says Scully. “Plenty of people think that we’re… uh… involved.” She shrugs. “We’re the only two people in our department, we’ve been working together for a long time, and we’re close. There are always rumors.”

“I just… well, Agent Mulder didn’t talk about anything except you the entire time I was with him yesterday,” says Elise. “And I mean the _entire_ time.” She shakes her head, smiling. “I guess I’ve never heard a guy talk like that about a woman he just works with.”

“Well, we’re friends,” says Scully, suddenly feeling defensive. “Best friends, really. We’ve been through a lot together.” Elise nods, but she doesn’t look convinced. She finishes flat-ironing Scully’s hair, and Scully obediently covers her eyes in preparation for the hairspray.

“So,” says Elise, as she swivels Scully’s chair around and pulls up a chair of her own to start on the makeup, “if you and Agent Mulder aren’t a couple, _are_ you seeing anybody?”

“Not for a very long time,” says Scully. “The job doesn’t leave me with much free time.” She sighs. “I’m barely home enough to keep my houseplants alive.” She waits, tensed, for the question she knows is coming next, now that Elise knows her partnership is not a romantic one: is Mulder seeing anyone?

But the question never comes.

 

————————————

 

The morning meeting with Kersh is uneventful: there’s no new information yet, no further threats have been received, and no one has noticed anything suspicious or out of the ordinary. All of the other undercover agents are in place as stage hands and security guards, and Skinner and Mulder show Scully the setup for the coming night.

In the dressing room, backstage, Scully has been allotted a space all the way at the end of a long row of mirrors. Each mirror has a corresponding curtained-off changing area across from it. There’s a door just to the left, and Skinner explains that there is a conference room immediately on the other side, which is where all of the agents who aren’t undercover will be, watching a live feed of the pageant. Scully looks at Mulder.

“That’s where you’ll be?” she asks, and he nods.

“With a direct line to you at all times,” he says, tapping his ear. She turns to Skinner.

“And you?” 

“In here with you,” he says. “Coaches stay with their contestants throughout the pageant, I’m told.” Scully nods, extremely thankful for the curtained changing areas. Changing clothing in front of her boss would be a whole new level of uncomfortable.

The door to the conference room opens, and Agents Marino and Young wheel in the clothing rack from Scully’s hotel room. They say nothing, but smirk at Scully and exchange a look with one another that she can’t quite read. She assumes they’re still angry about her turning down a body camera, and shrugs it off.

The eleven o’clock dance rehearsal with the rest of the contestants is short, thankfully. They only run through the routine three times before they’re dismissed. Scully tries to get Tina’s attention when it’s over, hoping to pick up last night’s conversation where they’d left off. But it turns out that Tina’s talent rehearsal is starting in minutes, and Scully is forced to leave the theater without her.

Lunch is a solitary affair, in her room, by her choice. Scully’s been surrounded by people more or less constantly since Mulder had picked her up from her apartment yesterday morning, and she’s desperate for some time alone to recharge. She stretches out on her bed and relaxes until one o’clock, when it’s time to go get changed and get ready for her talent rehearsal.

The fit of the green velvet dress, the stiffness of the skirt, and the supple leather of her hard shoes all combine to give Scully the strongest feeling of deja-vu she's had in a long, long time. Backstage, in her changing area, Elise helps Scully apply a heavier coat of makeup to compete with the bright stage lights, and uses a curling iron to give her a head full of tightly-wound spirals.

"Elise, can I ask you something?" In the mirror, Scully sees Elise smile encouragingly.

"Of course," she says.

"I don't want to sound like I'm ungrateful or like I'm not thrilled you're here, helping me, but... is there a reason you're not coaching a contestant in this pageant this year? A real one, I mean." Elise's expression grows sober and uncomfortable. "You don't have to answer if it's a sore subject," Scully says quickly. "I just... you're obviously very good at this. I was just curious." Elise doesn't answer for a moment, concentrating instead on curling the hair at the back of Scully's head.

"I _did_ have a contestant that I was coaching," she says, finally, not meeting Scully's eyes in the mirror. "But we had a falling out... just a few weeks ago, in fact, which is how I ended up being available to help you."

"I'm sorry," says Scully. Elise nods, still not meeting Scully's gaze.

"I'd been coaching her for a long time," she says. "But things started going south right after she won the pageant for her state... and within two weeks, she was just... different. Everything I said or did made her angry, we couldn't agree on anything... she was a completely different person almost overnight." Something pings in the back of Scully's mind, some connection she's missing. She gropes for the loose ends in her head, trying to figure out how this information relates to what she already knows, but it eludes her.

"Well," she says, "I feel awful that that happened to you... but I'm definitely happy to have your help, Elise." She smiles at her, and now Elise does meet her gaze, and she grins.

"You're all set," she says, stepping back. "Go knock 'em dead."

All in all, it's not as bad as it could have been, Scully decides twenty minutes later as she changes back into the lavender pantsuit, returning the velvet dress to its garment bag. She did have to run through the routine three times, so that the lighting technicians could make sure they had her lit the way they wanted, and she's a little sore, but the extra repetitions of the routine had served as much-needed practice squeezed in before tomorrow night's performance. She remembers all of the steps, and while her footwork is certainly not clean enough to win a national competition, it's good enough that she won't blow her cover. 

And at the very least, Scully thinks to herself as she leaves the dressing room, Mulder is busy elsewhere, so there's no way that he could have-

"That was _awesome_!" Mulder's enthusiastic shout is the first thing to greet Scully as she leaves the theater, and she cringes. "How come I never knew you could do that, Scully?"

"I thought you were busy with Kersh, Mulder," Scully grumbles, walking past him with her shoulders hunched.

"I was," he says, turning to walk along with her, "but I made sure to get down here in time to watch you. You really used to do that in competitions?" Scully nods as they step into a waiting elevator. "Why didn't you ever tell me about it?"

"It never came up," she says. "It hasn't been a part of my life for a long time now. And anyway...." She leans heavily against the elevator wall as the car begins to ascend. "It's something I used to do with Melissa, so... it reminds me a lot of her." Mulder's face immediately sobers, the boyish enthusiasm fading away.

"I'm sorry, Scully," he says. "I didn't know." She shrugs.

"Missy would get a kick out of all this," she says. "Me, dancing onstage in a beauty pageant. It's not exactly the sort of thing I ever thought I'd be doing." She shakes her head. "It's not a scenario I ever pictured when I made the decision to join the FBI."

"You're handling it great, Scully," Mulder says sincerely. He reaches out and fingers the lapel of her lavender blazer, pulling the edge ever so slightly towards himself. "This is a good look for you, by the way. I meant to tell you earlier." Scully feels a warm flush spread to the rest of her body from her chest, where his hand is hovering oh so close to the skin the blazer covers her bare skin.

"Yeah?" she says, her voice little more than a breathy whisper. "You like it?"

"I do," he says. He's moved a little nearer without her noticing, somehow. "I'd say it's too bad you can't dress like this all the time in the office... but then I probably wouldn't get anything done, ever."

He is _so_ close.

"And what makes you say that?" she asks, tilting her head back to meet his intense gaze. He says nothing in answer... only drops his eyes down to the exposed valley of her cleavage, then meets her eyes again. He tightens his hold on her lapel ever so slightly, pulling her inexorably towards him...

...until with a sudden, unwelcome _ding_ , the elevator stops and the doors fly open, admitting Tessa Gillman of Texas, with Stephanie Price of Minnesota standing next to her. Scully tries to pull away from Mulder, but he holds her fast.

"Wait, Kath, don't move," he says. "I've almost got the mascara off your cheek." He rubs his index finger across the skin under Scully's left eye, and she freezes, realizing at once what he's trying to do: if a contestant is caught making out (or looking like she's about to make out) with a man in the elevator, it won't look good for her, and she could get in trouble.

Having her makeup adjusted by her pageant coach's personal assistant, however, is perfectly permissible. 

"Katherine, who's your friend?" exclaims Tessa, grinning broadly. Scully's all too aware that her face (and, likely, the exposed skin between her collarbones) is flushed bright red.

"Tessa, this is my coach's personal assistant, Mul...." She trails off, but Mulder, thankfully, is still right on top of things.

"Marty," says Mulder, extending his hand. "Marty Luder." Tessa shakes his hand, then Stephanie, as they pass. Tess looks very much as though she'd like to say something- her eyes are sparkling with mischief- but they’re saved by Skinner’s voice booming down the hallway behind them.

“There you two are!” he calls, and Scully turns gratefully, waving good-bye to Tessa and Stephanie, who are still looking between her and Mulder with enormous grins on their faces. “Katherine, I need you both before dinner.” The elevator doors close, and Skinner beckons them down the hallway. 

“Has something happened?” asks Mulder, and Skinner shakes his head. 

“Nope,” he says. “I just want you-“ he points at Scully- “back in your room and resting until dinner at five.” Scully opens her mouth to protest, but Skinner cuts her off. “That’s an order. Mulder, Kersh is waiting for you in the command center downstairs.” His tone brooks no argument, so Mulder brushes Scully’s shoulder with his hand.

“I’ll see you at dinner,” he says, dropping a wink. “Get some rest.” And Scully retreats reluctantly into her hotel room to lie restless on her bed, with nothing to distract her from her jangling nerves.


	7. Chapter 7

Six o’clock arrives far too quickly, and before she knows it, Scully’s sitting at her changing station in the dressing room again, doing her best to calm herself down and stop shaking long enough for Elise to finish applying her makeup. She feels as though what little dinner she’d been able to force down will be making a reappearance at any moment. She tries to wipe the sweat accumulating on her palms onto her dress- the same sparkly silver gown all the contestants are wearing for the opening number- but the sequined fabric is not the slightest bit absorbent.

Elise finishes Scully’s makeup, dusts her face with powder, and comes around to the front of the chair, crouching down and taking Scully’s hands in hers.

“Dana,” she says, keeping her voice low, “just try and relax. You’re going to be just fine.” 

“She’s right,” says Skinner, who is standing to the side. “This isn’t any more frightening that any of the other nonsense you and Mulder have gotten yourselves into, is it?” Scully shakes her head, not trusting herself to open her mouth, lest she gets sick.

“You’re all set,” says Elise, and Scully stands on shaky legs. “Oh, hang on a second, your bra’s showing a little bit. Let me grab a safety pin.” She dashes off, and a moment later, Tina appears, smiling shyly.

“Katherine?” Scully turns, hoping her complete and abject terror isn’t showing on her face. 

“Tina, hi!” she says, fighting to keep her voice steady.

“I just wanted to wish you luck,” Tina says, bending over and giving Scully a friendly hug. When she stands back up again, she’s looking concerned. “Katherine, you’re trembling,” she says, in a soft voice that doesn’t carry. “Are you okay?”

“Oh, I’m fine,” says Scully, pasting on a shaky smile. “I always get like this right before I go onstage, don’t worry.” Tina doesn’t look entirely convinced.

“She does, believe me,” says Skinner. “She’ll be absolutely fine the moment she sets foot onstage.” He claps a comforting hand on Scully’s shoulder. 

Suddenly, the smile drops off of Tina’s face. She’s looking over Scully’s shoulders with wide, shocked eyes, but before Scully can turn, she hears Elise’s voice behind her.

“All right, crisis averted! I’ve got a safety pin! Let me see that strap and we'll just-" Elise freezes in place when she sees Tina, and all the color leaves her face. "Tina," she says in a soft voice.

"What are you doing here, Elise?" Tina asks. She doesn't sound angry, exactly, but she's certainly not happy to see Elise.

"Helping out," Elise says. She gestures to Skinner. "This is Walt's first time at the national level and I'm here to show him the ropes." Tina nods.

"You didn't tell me you were going to be here," she says.

"Well, it's not exactly as though you were speaking to me, was it?" asks Elise, and it's the first time Scully's seen her anything approaching angry. Tina looks pained.

"Look, Elise-"

"Five minutes to curtain! Ladies, please take your places in the wings!" The stage manager strides up and down the dressing room, calling the contestants to their marks. Tina looks back to Scully.

"Good luck, Katherine," she says, and she's gone. Scully looks over at Elise, eyebrows raised.

"Yeah," sighs Elise, responding to Scully's unasked question. "Tina is the contestant I used to coach." She shakes her head briefly, as though throwing off the entire interaction. "But let's not worry about that now; you've gotta get out there!" Elise turns Scully around and uses the safety pin in her hand to secure Scully's dress, hiding the top of her strapless bra in the bodice. "There you go." She spins Scully back to face her and gives her a quick hug. "You'll do great out there," she assures her. "I'll see you in a little while, okay?" Scully nods numbly and turns away, heading for her mark with a deepening sense of dread.

When Scully had been nine years old, she'd been roped into giving a speech at an assembly in front of her entire primary school, as well as most of the students' parents. She doesn't even remember, now, what the subject of the speech had been, or why she’d been chosen to give it, or even how long she’d spoken for. 

What she _does_ remember is the way her legs had shaken as she'd mounted the steps up to the dais, the way her stomach had clenched as she'd looked out over the hundreds of faces in the audience, the way her heart had beat so fast and so hard that trying to catch her breath had been almost painful. Her Irish dance performances had never, ever terrified her like that, because at least then, her sister had always been by her side through the entire thing. 

Since that day, she's spoken alone in front of people many times- on the debate team in college, as an instructor at Quantico, and as an agent giving reports and presentations to groups of her peers. She’d thought her fear of crowds had been a thing of the past… but now, standing in the wings with forty-nine other women, she is suddenly once again reduced to that terrified nine-year-old girl. It doesn’t matter that she won’t be going onstage alone; any comfort she might have gleaned from the other contestants’ presence is negated by the sheer size of the audience- not to mention the millions of television viewers watching at home.

A sudden thought strikes her: what if her mother sees her? Maggie Scully is not and never has been given to watching beauty pageants- she doesn’t watch much television, period- but what if she just happens to be flipping through the channels and catches sight of her daughter’s face?

 _No, don’t think about it_ , she tells herself firmly. _Can’t worry about that now._ And even if it happens, there’s nothing Scully can do about it. Her mother will just have to accept her assurances that this is safe, that nobody is going to hurt her when she’s surrounded by FBI agents.

And she _really_ can’t worry about it right now, because the announcer has taken his place, the house lights are down, the stage lights are up, the music is starting, and she’s striding out onto the stage with the others to thunderous applause and deafening cheers.

Scully goes through the dance routine on autopilot, almost detached from the entire experience, trying very hard not to think about the enormous crowd in front of her. It helps that the footlights are so bright that she can’t really see the individual faces. She knows Mulder is watching on a monitor right next to the dressing room, but she wishes he were in the audience instead, even though she’s well aware she wouldn’t know the difference if he were. They’d decided, as a team, that there was no need for her to wear her wire during the performance- the theater is crawling with agents, Skinner is in the wings, and Kersh and the others are in the command center right next to the dressing room- but right now, she’s wishing she’d worn it anyway, so that she could have Mulder’s voice in her ear, encouraging and calming her.

Finally, mercifully, the dance number ends, and Scully has survived it without making a single mistake. The audience’s applause seems to go on forever, and for a moment, it almost feels good, standing up here with a thousand strangers clapping for her. Not good enough for her to understand the attraction of competing in a pageant like this, not really, but good enough so that she’s not quite as nervous as she’d been before coming out onstage.

The pageant’s master of ceremonies, an older man named Freddie Clark who’s presented the pageant every year since its inception, takes the stage again as the audience’s applause begins to die down, and as he entertains the crowd, the contestants leave the stage to change into their evening gowns for their interviews. Scully’s surprised, when she returns to her changing station, to find Mulder there with Elise and Skinner, waiting for her. He scoops her up into a giddy hug, twirling her around.

“See, what did I tell you?” he exclaims, setting her back down on her feet. 

“That I’d be fine,” says Scully, smiling reluctantly at him. “And you were right, I was.”

“Oh, no, I’m not talking about that,” says Mulder, grinning mischievously. “I mean they put you right in the very front row, just like I said they would, didn’t they?” Scully glares at him, but before she can fire back, Elise is stuffing her evening gown into her hands and guiding her towards the curtained-off changing stall.

“No time for that,” she says, shoving Mulder back towards the door leading to the command center.

“Good luck on your interview,” he calls over his shoulder as he leaves. “Remember, smile big! Call for world peace! Nuclear disarmament, an end to world hunger, peace, justice, and the American-“ That’s as far as he gets before Elise slams the door in his face.

“I’m starting to wonder how you get through the day without hurting him,” she says to Scully, through the curtain.

“I’ve been wondering the same thing for six years now,” grumbles Skinner, and Scully laughs.

For her evening gown, Elise has gone back to trying to emphasize Scully’s eyes. The dress is ice blue, floor-length, covered in a heavy pattern of beadwork that gives weight to the fabric and makes it drape beautifully over her hips and legs. The back is low, but high enough to hide both her tattoo and her gunshot wound, and the sleeves hang just slightly off of her shoulders.

Elise, Scully decides as she studies her almost-unrecognizable reflection in the mirror, is a wizard.

Waiting in the wings for her turn at the interview is every bit as unnerving as waiting for the opening number to start had been, but at least now, since the contestants are being called in alphabetical order, Scully has ample opportunity to get a feel for the kinds of questions the contestants are being asked. They range from the personal- questions about influential figures and dreams for the future- to the political. Whenever the latter types of questions come up, Scully notices, the contestants do their best to appear as neutral as possible, trying hard not to alienate either the judges or the audience.

Tina, as the representative from California, gets her interview out of the way very early, and Scully finds herself holding her breath as she watches her crossing the stage, tall and graceful in her sparkling emerald-green gown. Tina's kindness to Scully, her friendliness, as well as her obvious vulnerability in the face of whatever has happened with Bellman, has Scully rooting for her.

Tina takes her microphone from Freddie Clark and stands ready, the very picture of grace and poise, smiling out at the audience in a way that somehow doesn't look fake at all. Her question is relatively easy, personal in nature, and she speaks eloquently, not betraying even the slightest hint of nervousness. She's a natural public speaker.

When Tina leaves the stage to thunderous applause, re-entering the wings further downstage, Scully badly wants to go and congratulate her, but she's not supposed to leave her place in line, even though she's got plenty of time until her turn. She's strongly considering going over to Tina anyway... but as she watches, Elise beats her to the punch.

Scully's too far away to hear what's being said, but the emotion in bothTina's and Elise's faces as they talk together tell her almost everything she needs to know. Elise is smiling softly and sadly, and Tina does not seem quite able to meet her former coach's eyes... but at the same time, she also doesn't seem quite able to resist moving to stand closer. As Scully watches, Elise reaches out and takes Tina's hand in her own. She puts her other hand at Tina's chin and draws it up slightly, forcing the other woman to meet her gaze. She says something that Tina, for a moment, seems to be moved by... but then Tina gives a sharp shake of her head, jerks her hand out of Elise's grasp, and walks quickly away. Elise remains where she is a moment longer, head down, and then disappears into the changing room.

The pieces begin to fall into place in Scully's head as she moves up in line. Elise had been Tina's coach, for years, but it's pretty clear now that their relationship went much further than that. She remembers, suddenly, Mulder's comment last night, about how Elise had grilled him for information about Scully, but had asked him nothing about himself... and she remembers this morning, how she'd expected Elise to ask if Mulder had a girlfriend... but she hadn't.

She'd asked about Scully, though. And she hadn't asked her if she had a boyfriend; she'd asked if Scully was "seeing anyone."

Scully can't help smiling a little. Here she'd been relentlessly chastising herself for the twinge of jealousy she'd felt about Mulder and Elise wandering the hotel alone together yesterday, and it hadn't been the slightest bit necessary. Mulder, if anyone, should be the one worrying about all the time Elise has had alone with _her_.

So all this begs the question: what's happened between Elise and Tina? They clearly still care for one another; that much was evident in their faces just now. Elise had told Scully that their professional relationship had come to an end immediately following Tina being crowned Miss California, that Tina had, in Elise's words, become a "completely different person overnight." So what could have....

And suddenly, Scully knows... and she wants to march out into the audience and punch Alan Bellman right in his smug, disgusting face.

Victims of trauma, sexual and otherwise, often respond by pushing away the people they've been previously close to. Scully knows this. She's _done_ this, on occasion. And it makes perfect sense that if Bellman had, as Scully suspects, assaulted Tina during his lunch with her, that Tina might try to cope by freeing herself from any and all romantic entanglements.

Scully promises herself that, whatever happens with this case, she will get Tina to talk about what's happened to her, and hopefully find a way forward.

As she's been standing backstage, waiting, running all of this over in her head, the line has moved forward considerably, and before Scully knows it, Miss Vermont is walking offstage, and it's her turn. 

"Ladies and gentlemen," Freddie Clark is saying, "please welcome Miss Katherine Hale of Virginia!" And it's time.

Scully knows the crowd is applauding, and she thinks it might even be enthusiastic applause, but she can't quite tell over the buzzing that is filling her ears. She manages to make her way out onto the stage without falling, which is a shock, because she's barely aware of her legs even moving. She smiles widely out at the audience, feeling like an idiot the entire time, and comes to a slightly unsteady stop in front of Freddie, who smiles and hands her a microphone, which she accepts with shaking hands.

"Katherine," says Freddie, "as of now, the American Armed Forces has placed a ban on women serving in combat positions. Do you agree with this? Why or why not?" 

Scully blinks at him, wondering if Bellman has chosen this question specifically for her, in retaliation for standing up to him at their initial meeting, and again at the dance rehearsal. But so what if he has? Unlike the other contestants, Scully does not have to worry about alienating the judges- like Skinner has said she's guaranteed to make the top eight- and it's not as though she's in this thing to win it, anyway. There's no need for her to stay neutral.

"I am a licensed firearms owner," she begins, "with an accuracy rating above ninety percent. I can shoot better and faster than ninety-eight percent of tested firearms owners across the country- and that _includes_ the members of our armed services and police force." There's an impressed murmur throughout the audience, as well as a few scattered admiring whoops. "Of course, being able to hit what you're aiming at, while helpful, is not the only indication of a potential soldier's fitness for combat. Many women are, it's true, physically smaller, and in some cases weaker, than their male counterparts- but that's not always the case. If a woman can demonstrate the same level of physical fitness required of our male soldiers, sailors, and airmen, there is no real reason why they cannot serve in combat. Our police forces already have female officers patrolling our streets, and even the FBI has female agents working in the field every day. I believe it is past time for the military to follow their lead.

"Self-defense is an important weapon for every woman to have in her arsenal, and we cannot overstate the importance of making sure every woman is properly equipped to defend herself and what matters to her from whatever threats may come, whether she's protecting her country from enemies abroad, or protecting herself from predators right here at home." She turns, as she delivers her final words, to the spot in the front of the audience where she knows, though she cannot see him, that Alan Bellman is seated. She can't resist.

The audience's response is warm and receptive, and long before the applause has died down, Scully has returned backstage, heading for her changing area to change into the dreaded swimsuit. She's been trying, all day, to stop worrying about showing so much skin in front of millions of strangers across the country, but she hasn't had much success.

Mostly, she's been trying to distract herself with thoughts of how Mulder will react. It's a pleasant thought, to be sure, but so far, it hasn't been enough to fully drive away the terror.

Elise is grinning broadly at her when she arrives, and Skinner is shaking his head- but he's just barely suppressing a smile.

"You had to, didn't you?" he asks gruffly. "You just couldn't help yourself."

"Hey, I was all set to call for world peace," says Scully, smiling. "It's not my fault that that's not the question they gave me." The door to the command center opens, and Mulder squeezes through, beaming at Scully.

"You're never gonna miss an opportunity to remind me that you're a better shot than I am, are you?" he asks her.

"Not on your life," she says.

"They're just finishing up the 'W' states," says Elise, "and then there'll be a short intermission before the start of the swimsuit competition. Go on and get in your suit." Scully nods and rifles through the clothing rack, locating the smallest garment bag and unzipping it to reveal...

...a bikini.

Where the carefully-chosen royal blue one-piece swimsuit had once hung, there is now nothing but a bright red triangle bikini. She pulls out the hanger, and behind her, Elise gasps.

"Where did that come from?" she asks. She begins unzipping the other bags on the rack frantically, but the correct swimsuit isn't there. "I don't understand! We put it back on the hanger this morning, after you tried it on, and nobody's touched it since then, except-"

"Marino and Young," says Scully, realization dawning. "They brought the rack down from my hotel room this afternoon. I guess that's why they were smirking at me." Skinner and Mulder stare at her in horror for the space of a heartbeat; then, moving so fast they nearly smash into each other, they throw open the door and race into the control room. Skinner snatches up the skimpy red bikini on his way. Scully follows.

"Marino! Young! Get the fuck over here _now!_ " Kersh leaps up from the video monitor he's been watching.

"Skinner, what the hell are you doing?" he demands furiously. In answer, Skinner brandishes the red bikini.

"Your boys thought they'd play a little joke on Agent Scully," he says, "by switching the swimsuit that had been carefully chosen to cover Peyton Ritter's handiwork with _this._ " This is an offense that even Kersh cannot overlook. Bellman is sure to notice Scully's scar, as will the entire audience, and he'll almost certainly complain.

"Agent Young, get over here!" he calls. Young slinks over from where he's been cowering, a sullen expression on his face. "Did you do this?"

"What's the problem?" he asks insolently. "They'll all be wearing bikinis, won't they? She's not gonna stand out."

"She will if she's got a month-old bullet wound in her stomach, you asshole!" snarls Mulder, speaking for the first time. Young pales.

"We didn't know!" he protests. "Nobody told us that!"

"Nobody should have to!" says Skinner. "There was no reason for you to touch Agent Scully's wardrobe! What did you do with the right suit?"

"I don't know, Marino took it somewhere! I don't know what he did with it!" Kersh swears profusely.

"Marino's patrolling the parking lot," he says. "He'll never get back here in time. Mulder, get to the parking garage, find Marino, and-" He stops when he realizes, at the same time as everyone else, that Mulder's not there anymore. "Where the hell did he go?"

"We don't have time for that now," says Skinner. "Young, get your ass out there, find Marino, and find out what the hell he did with that suit." Young takes off, looking glad to escape. Skinner turns to Scully. "Agent Scully, I'm sorry, but for now, I need you to put this on and be ready to go onstage." He looks to Elise. "Can something be done with makeup?"

"I can try," she says, and Scully cringes inwardly. The area is still tender to the touch, even weeks later, and having someone jab at it with a makeup sponge will not be a pleasant experience. Together, she and Elise retreat to the dressing room, Skinner following in their wake.

"I'm sorry, Scully," says Skinner again, once the door is closed. "Rest assured, even if Kersh won't discipline them, I will. I'm gonna make sure their asses get hung out to dry for this."

Ten minutes later, Scully's clutching a towel around herself, trying hard not to shiver in the tiny red bikini. Elise has done the best she can, but the scars on both her back and on her stomach are still plainly visible. Standing in the front row, Scully has even less hope of hiding them. Elise is rubbing her shoulder comfortingly, and Skinner is standing off to the side, still looking as though he'd like to throttle someone.

There's a sudden commotion in the control room next door, and a moment later, the door is thrown open, and Mulder rushes in, out of breath and clutching a plastic bag. He thrusts it at Scully, who reaches in, and pulls out a black one-piece bathing suit.

"I think it's the right size," Mulder pants. "I got it from the hotel gift shop, and there wasn't much selection, it was mostly two-pieces and-"

That's about as far as he gets before Scully drops the bag, the suit, and the towel, launching herself at Mulder and kissing him for all she's worth. Mulder wraps his arms around her and kisses her back- at least, for a moment, before they both come back to themselves and remember that they are not, in fact, alone. Scully pulls away, feeling her face go red. Mulder looks as though he's been clobbered over the head.

"I'm going to pretend," Skinner says, pointedly, "that I did _not_ see that. Agent Scully, get in there and get changed."

"Yes, Sir," says Scully, and with an embarrassed smile at Mulder (and ignoring Elise's grin), she ducks into her cubicle to rid herself of the hated red bikini.


	8. Chapter 8

With all the excitement leading up to the swimsuit competition, Scully's actual time spent onstage is almost a letdown. Having reached the pinnacle of terror while waiting backstage in that skimpy red bikini, anticipating the stares and murmuring she had known would come when she stepped into the light and bared her wounded, damaged body, the relief of slipping on the plain, black one-piece Mulder has procured from her keeps her walking on air long after she's walking across the stage, bathed in blinding light.

She hears the cheers, she hears the wolf whistles, and she's slightly aware that some of the other contestants are eyeing her conservative choice of swimwear with confusion... but mostly, all she can think of, all she can feel, is the memory of Mulder's lips pressed to hers moments ago.

As first kisses go, it's not ideal for a number of reasons, not the least of which is that their boss had been standing two feet away, watching the whole thing. Scully had _meant_ to keep it at a quick peck on the lips, out of gratitude, not that different from the one she'd laid on Skinner himself, some months earlier.

Skinner, of course, had not responded by taking her in his arms and kissing her _back._

Nor had she been so electrified by the touch of Skinner's lips that she had momentarily forgotten her surroundings.

And, of course, she's not in love with Skinner.

 _Don't think about it now,_ she tells herself forcefully, as she smiles at the audience hiding behind the footlights, hits her mark, does the same stupid little turn as everyone else, and struts off to the side of the stage. As the smallest contestant, she's the last out, taking her place in the very front row, smiling brightly. But the image before her eyes isn't the blinding lights, the vague, dark suggestion of the crowd seated beyond them; it's Mulder's face, the look of punch-drunk wonder and amazement he'd worn when she'd drawn back from him. The sweet smile last night, when she'd asked him about the undercover name he'd chosen for her... his bashful blushing in the face of her nakedness in the tub... his frank appreciation of her when she'd walked out of the makeshift changing room on the jet.

They've taken more steps forward in the past forty-eight hours than they have in the past six months, finally beginning to boldly confront the issue they've been dancing around since his hallway. It's the worst possible time for them to be doing this, she knows, but in the Court of Terrible Timing, she and Mulder have always been the reigning king and queen. She's terrified to put the brakes on now, because if she does, there's no telling how long it will take them to pick up the threads again- if they ever do.

The timing is all wrong, but for once, Scully doesn't care.

The contestants make their way back offstage to thunderous applause, and Scully hurriedly changes out of her bathing suit and back into her evening gown, fixing her "Miss Virginia" sash carefully over her shoulder. She's almost completely immune to the nervous tension in the air; she knows she's gotten through this round, knows that she'll be back onstage tomorrow night with the other twenty-four remaining contestants. Her only real apprehension is Tina: Scully's relatively certain she'll make it into the next round, but she has no real way to judge. She's completely clueless about the inner workings of pageants, after all. For all she knows, Tina may have been eliminated before the opening dance number had even ended.

Her fears prove boundless, however, and Tina is one of the first names announced. Scully lets out a sigh of relief- she badly wants to know what's happened to her new friend, and not just because there's a chance it could pertain to the case.

When her own name is announced, near the end of the list, Scully conjures up what she hopes is an appropriate level of excitement as she walks downstage to stand with the other advancing contestants. Then before she knows it, it's over, and they're all walking offstage together.

She's survived her first night as a beauty pageant contestant... or so she thinks.

Mulder is standing in the wings, holding his cell phone out to her, wearing his panic face. Scully frowns.

"What's going on?" she asks. Mulder swallows nervously.

"Your... uh, your sister-in-law... she was watching the pageant," he says. "And she...." He swallows again, and Scully feels as though a rock has settled in the pit of her stomach. "She called your mom."

Scully thinks to herself, as she gingerly takes the phone from his hand, as though it's a bomb about to go off (which, in a way, it is), that she'd rather go back out onstage, red bikini and all, than take this phone call.

 

\---------------------------------

 

"Mom, I'm really sorry," Scully says, for what she thinks is the fourth time. "I honestly didn't have a choice." She's pacing her hotel room, having spent the entire trip up (including the elevator ride, when her connection had been terrible but she hadn't dared hang up) trying to calm her mother down, without success.

"You always have a choice, Dana," Maggie insists. "You could have turned down this assignment. It's _far_ too soon for you to even be back at work yet, let alone out in the field- to say nothing of being undercover, dancing onstage! Do you _want_ to kill yourself, Dana?"

"Mom, I'm fine. Don't be dramatic." As soon as the words have left her mouth, she knows they were a mistake. She can practically hear her mother swelling with rage, even over the phone, even across the country.

"Dramatic?" Maggie's voice is approaching a shrillness Scully hasn't heard in a very long time. " _Dramatic?_ Dana, a month ago, I had to rush to New York City because you'd been shot and the doctors didn't even know if you were going to live or die! And now I find out, and I have to find out from _Tara_ , not from you, because you didn't bother to tell me, that you're right back out in the field, putting yourself in harm's way before you've even had the chance to heal!"

"I couldn't say no, Mom!" Behind Scully, she hears the connecting door opening, and she turns to see Mulder walk in, his head down, somehow managing to look both sympathetic and guilty in equal measure. "This order came from Assistant Director Kersh, and if I'd refused, he would have held it against me when I _did_ come back. He could use it as an opportunity to split me and Mulder up for good... it would have been career suicide."

"As opposed to the _actual_ suicide you seem so determined to commit?" Scully sucks in a breath. "When's it going to be enough, Dana? How many near-misses is it going to take until you-"

"Until I what, Mom? Until I quit? Until I leave the FBI, until I go back to practicing medicine, like you wanted? Like Dad wanted?" She's becoming angry in spite of herself, and it's not making her feel any better. "It's not going to happen, Mom."

"That's not what I'm saying," Maggie insists. "I know you're not going to quit, regardless of whether I want you to or not." Scully bites back a retort and allows her mother to continue. "All I want is for you to put your health first and your job second."

"My health is not at risk, Mom, I promise you that," Scully says wearily, sinking down to sit at the edge of the bed. Mulder sits next to her, looking concerned. Without looking at him she reaches out her hand, and he takes it in both of his own, squeezing reassuringly. She feels instantly better. "All I'm doing is walking around on a stage and smiling. It's not taxing. And the nature of the threat is such that I won't be targeted. I'm surrounded by other agents at all times; I'm not here on my own. And Mulder is here with me."

"Didn't he have anything to say about this? Goodness, Dana, the man nearly fell apart in the hospital waiting room in New York while we were waiting to find out if you'd make it or not. I'd think he'd be against you working again so soon." Fell apart? Her mother is not normally given to exaggeration, in spite of the state she's currently worked herself into.

"He argued pretty strongly against it, but he doesn't have any more authority to overrule AD Kersh than I do," Scully says. "But he's here, and he's not leaving my side, and I promise you, Mom, I am _fine._ " She pauses. "It's actually a little fun, getting to wear all these fancy dresses that I don't have to worry about paying for." Her mother chuckles weakly.

"I suppose I should be grateful that I can actually watch you while you're doing this," she says. "I can keep a much closer eye on you than on any other case." She pauses. "But isn't there some sort of talent competition tomorrow night? What will you do for _that_?" Scully grins.

"Well, I don't want to ruin the surprise... so I'll just say be prepared for a blast from the past." She glances at the bedside clock and sees that it's nearly eleven. "Listen, Mom, it's getting late, and Mulder and I need to go over some things before bed. I promise I'll call you tomorrow, all right? And Mulder will have his phone on him all day; you can call him anytime."

"Is he there now?" Maggie asks, and Scully hums in the affirmative. "Say hello to him for me, please. And tell him to make sure he keeps an eye on you." Scully smiles.

"I'll do that. I love you, Mom."

"I love you too, Dana. Please try and take care of yourself."

Scully hands Mulder his phone back with a weary sigh and collapses backwards on the bed. "I should have known," she grumbles, rubbing her eyes tiredly.

"Should have known what?" Mulder asks, lying back on one elbow, looking down at her.

"I should have known that Tara would be the sort to watch beauty pageants on television." She knows she's being a little unkind, thinking of her sister-in-law as vapid, but she's far too exhausted to care. All of her euphoria at having made it through the first night of the pageant has drained away, chased off by the stress of talking her mother down. "My mom says hi, by the way," she says, glancing up at Mulder. "And she says to make sure to keep an eye on me." Mulder grins.

"I plan to," he says playfully. "Both of them, in fact." His face lights up. "Does that mean I have your mom's permission to follow you into the dressing room?" Scully rolls her eyes.

" _Mulder,_ " she groans, reaching out to shove him playfully. He grabs her arm, intercepting it smoothly, and slings it around his neck instead, leaning down to kiss her more thoroughly and completely than she's ever been kissed in her life.

Every last vestige of tiredness suddenly flees her body as she surges against him, clutching his head in both hands, thrusting her tongue into his mouth to tangle with his. She starts to slide one leg up his, intending to roll him on his back and straddle him, but a sharp pain in her abdomen stops her, and she gasps. He catches her leg by the thigh and guides it gently back down to the bed, rolling so that he's nestled between her legs, balancing his weight on his elbows, keeping it off of her, all without ever breaking the kiss.

Non-verbal communication. It's always been a strong suit for them on the job, and apparently it translates well into other aspects of their partnership.

Mulder winds his fingers into Scully's hair and deepens the kiss even further, setting every nerve ending in her body on fire. She slides her hands from his hair, down to his shoulders, and further along his spine until she reaches his waist. His shirt has come untucked... and she's just beginning to lift the hem up when there's a sudden pounding on the connecting door. Mulder jumps in shock, the hands buried in her hair jerking sharply.

" _Ouch!_ " Scully hisses, and Mulder immediately begins trying to untangle his fingers.

"Sorry," he whispers. The knock comes again, louder this time.

"Mulder," Skinner's voice booms from the room next door, "get back in here and let Agent Scully get some sleep." Mulder sighs, dropping his forehead down onto the bed next to Scully's ear.

"Think we'll ever get this right?" he asks in a low voice, and Scully chuckles.

"Eventually," she says, and kisses the skin just under his ear. A shiver runs through him, and he turns his head, his lips meeting hers.

"You promise?" he whispers into her mouth.

"Promise," she whispers back, and they kiss.

"Let's _go_ , Mulder!" Skinner's voice, truly sounding exasperated now, reverberates through the connecting door, and Mulder groans, struggling slowly to his feet.

"Notice he said to let _you_ sleep," he says as he tucks his shirt back into his pants. " _I'm_ probably in for a half-hour lecture on keeping appropriate boundaries between partners."

"I doubt that," says Scully. "I'm willing to bet Skinner thinks this has been going on for years."

 

\---------------------------

 

With most of the second day of the pageant free, Scully decides to focus on getting more information out of Tina before they're required to be backstage at five o'clock.

The trouble is, Scully can't _find_ Tina.

Her roommate says Tina had been gone when she'd woken up that morning, and when Scully asks around at breakfast, none of the other contestants have seen her, either. She harbors a faint hope that perhaps she's off with Elise somewhere, in the midst of a confession and a reconciliation, but that hope is dashed when Elise shows up in Scully's room to see how she'd fared getting her own makeup and hair right this morning.

Mulder's nowhere to be found, either, but a quick trip down to the command center reveals that he's been more or less confined with Kersh's profilers, probably for most of the day. With no further contact from the suspect (or suspects; they haven't ruled out the idea of a lone wolf pretending to be part of a larger group), and only two nights left in the pageant, they're beginning to panic.

With no other promising leads- the other contestants who have received threats are wrapped up in private sessions with their respective coaches- Scully decides that it couldn't hurt to practice her dance routine a few times. She changes into her workout clothing, grabs the cloth bag holding her hard shoes, and takes the elevator down to the gym.

There's a private room next to the weight room, with a wooden floor and a wall of mirrors, which Scully figures is normally used for yoga. She stretches gingerly, glad of her decision, at breakfast, to take a pain pill rather than toughing it out. It's not only her gunshot wound that's giving her trouble: after weeks of bed rest and taking it easy, and then suddenly being on her feet almost constantly for two days, plus all the dancing, the muscles in her legs are protesting loudly.

She runs through her routine once, slowly, then a second time, speeding up slightly, and then a third, at the speed she'll need to perform it tonight. She does it fourth time, and a fifth, and then needs to stop mid-way through the sixth repetition to massage a cramp out of her calf. As she's bending over, rubbing the protesting muscles with firm fingers, there's a soft voice behind her.

"That was so neat!" Scully jumps slightly, surprised. Looking up at the mirror, she sees Tina, leaning up against the doorway, grinning at her. "And you look just right for it, too, with that red hair!" Scully smiles.

"Thanks," she says. She gestures down at her leg, which is still stubbornly cramping. "I just wish all of my limbs were cooperating today. My calf has decided it's had enough." Still smiling, Tina crosses the room and sits down next to Scully. She gestures to the offending limb.

"May I?"

"By all means," says Scully, stretching her leg out, wincing as the muscle tightens even further. Tina pulls it into her lap and begins to massage the back of her calf with firm, sure strokes. Much to Scully's amazement, the muscle begins to loosen almost at once. "Oh, wow," she moans, leaning her head back and closing her eyes. "You've had training in this, haven't you?"

"I'm going to school to be a physical therapist," Tina says, increasing the pressure on Scully's calf. "At Cal Tech. I'm graduating next year."

"Well," says Scully, opening her eyes to watch Tina work, "the practice that gets you is going to be very, very lucky." Tina smiles... but after a moment, her smile fades.

"I want to apologize about last night, Katherine," she says, her voice soft. "I really shouldn't have been distracting anyone on your team right before you went onstage. I promise, I wasn't trying to throw you off." She sighs. "I really had no idea Elise was going to be here."

"No, don't worry about it," says Scully. "No harm done." She's silent, allowing Tina to come to her.

"I was just so surprised," she says, finally. "But I guess I shouldn't have been. Elise is right, I haven't been keeping in touch."

"She seems very competent," Scully ventures. "A very good coach. If you don't mind my asking... what happened?" Tina's silent a moment, continuing to work the cramps out of Scully's thigh.

"Elise...." She glances up at Scully, then back down again. "Elise wasn't just my coach." Scully's surmised as much, but she says nothing, still waiting. "We were... involved. For almost three years."

"And it didn't work out?" Scully asks, her voice soft, sympathetic.

"I guess you could say that," Tina says. "I just... I went through something, not long ago, and after... I didn't feel like the same person anymore." She ducks her head. "I didn't feel like I had enough left in me to have anything to give another person. I tried... for awhile... but it wasn't fair to her, so... I ended it."

"I'm so sorry, Tina," says Scully, and she means it. Scully is a person who's spent _years_ believing that her personal traumas make her too complicated to ever share herself with another human being. "That must have been an awful decision to make. Have you... have you spoken to anyone about what's happened?" Tina nods.

"I've had counseling," she says. "It's helped, a lot. It still bothers me, and I still have nightmares about it, but I don't feel like I'm re-living it every day, you know?" Scully nods- she does know. Boy, does she _ever_ know. "But before then... before I admitted that I needed help... I said some horrible things to Elise. Unforgivable things, really."

"I doubt that she think so," says Scully gently. "Does she know what happened?" Tina shakes her head. "I'm willing to be that if she did, she'd be more than willing to forgive. Especially when she finds out you've gotten help dealing with it." Tina is silent. "Tina... I know it's none of my business, but... does this have something to do with Bellman? Did something happen, during your lunch with him?" Tina remains silent, and Scully doesn't move. Then, finally, Tina takes Scully's leg and places it carefully on the floor. She takes a deep breath... and begins to speak.


	9. Chapter 9

Scully throws open the door to the command center and rushes in, still clad in her workout clothes. She spies Kersh and Skinner standing together near the bank of monitors set up along one wall and rushes over to them. They turn to face her as she approaches.

"Agent Scully," says Kersh, frowning, "we've had people looking for you for an hour now."

"I'm sorry, Sir, I was speaking with Tina Fitzsimmons down in the workout room," Scully says. "I've learned something I believe may be pertinent to the case." This gets the attention of the other agents in the room, including Mulder, who comes over to stand beside her.

'What did you find out?" he asks.

"I was right about what happened after the Miss California pageant," says Scully. "During their private lunch together the day after, Tina alleges that Alan Bellman sexually assaulted her. He tried to kiss her, and groped her extensively, in spite of her clearly and repeatedly trying to rebuff his advances." The room goes silent around them. "She says that he threatened her with violence when she tried to stop him. Sir," she addresses herself to Kersh, "I believe Tina can be convinced to file formal charges against Bellman. And what's more," she continues, as Kersh tries to interrupt, "I strongly believe that Bellman has done the same thing to Selena Flores, the reigning Miss United States, and possibly to Tessa Gillman, the representative from Texas, though maybe to a lesser degree in the last case. And while I haven't spoken to Miss Vermont, judging by an interaction that I witnessed, I believe there's an excellent chance that she would have a similar story." 

"Agent Scully," says Kersh, frowning deeply at her, "our purpose here is not to investigate the conduct of Alan Bellman. This is unfortunate news, and if Miss Fitzsimmons wishes to press charges, she can contact local police, but I fail to see how this pertains to our investigation." Scully's mouth drops open.

"You fail to see how... Sir, those are all the women who have received threatening letters! Except for Miss Virginia, who mysteriously dropped out of the pageant immediately after her own private luncheon with Bellman and didn't give a reason. Sir, it _has_ to be related! What are the chances that the women being threatened have all been assaulted by Bellman?"

"Except they haven't, not as far as we know," says Kersh. "All you've given me are claims from one contestant and your gut feelings about four others. And can you please explain to me why Bellman would send threatening letters to himself?"

"To cover his tracks," Mulder interjects. "If he's planning to do something to these women, whether to all or some of them, making sure he's threatened, as well- not to mention calling in the FBI to investigate the threats- could make him look less culpable, make it less likely that whatever happens to the women gets traced back to him."

"And why would he threaten them in the first place, even if he did assault them?" asks Kersh.

"Maybe they threatened to go public," says Mulder. "For all we know, he's assaulted more contestants than that, but only those five have made him think he has anything to worry about."

"Sir, I would not be surprised at all if he's assaulted more," says Scully. "From the conversations I've had, most of these women are hesitant to even stand next to him, because he has a reputation for treating women inappropriately, for touching them far more than is required."

"He's a rich good ol' boy, Agent Scully. What do you expect?" Scully is aghast.

"So, because he's wealthy, we're just going to excuse his behavior and not even entertain the thought that he could be involved in this, that his calling us here was merely a smokescreen?" Skinner begins to look nervous at her tone.

"Listen, Agent Scully," he says, "if you want support for your theory, you need more proof. Talk to the other women who've been threatened and find out if anything _did_ happen, and _then_ get back to us."

"I can't promise we'll listen," says Kersh gruffly. "He could have groped all fifty contestants, and it wouldn't necessarily mean he has anything to do with these threats. It just doesn't fit."

" _Nothing_ about this case fits, Sir," says Mulder. "Think about it- we have the original letters, signed by a group that no one has ever heard of before, that doesn't even seem to exist. There have been no further threats, nothing out of place here at the pageant, and absolutely _nothing_ suspicious since it's begun. What Agent Scully's discovered is the biggest lead we've gotten so far!"

"Then by all means, you're free to pursue it," says Kersh, waving his hand dismissively. "You bring me some substantiated proof, and then maybe we'll have a look at your theory. Until then, I don't want one word of this breathed within earshot of Bellman, you hear me?"

 

\---------------------------

 

Scully doesn't manage to find Tessa before dinner- or Selena Flores (whom she actually hasn't seen since the welcome luncheon), or Miss Vermont (whose name Scully's not even sure of). She eats a tense dinner with Mulder and Skinner, then Elise arrives to escort her to her changing station backstage.

"I double- and triple-checked every single piece of clothing on this rack," says Elise, bringing out the green sequined gown she's chosen for Scully to wear tonight. "Nothing has been switched, nothing's been removed, and nobody's replaced the dress for your talent portion with a g-string." Scully laughs as she takes the gown from Elise and steps behind the curtain to change.

The second night of the pageant is not nearly as nerve-wracking as the first had been. The contestants' initial time onstage is short- just enough, really, for the audience to be reminded who's left and who's been eliminated. Once they're all backstage again, some- like Scully- rush to their cubicles to change into costumes, while others retrieve musical instruments or take the opportunity to read through monologues and speeches one more time.

And then... they wait. With twenty-five contestants, all with a talent to perform that takes anywhere from two to ten minutes, there's going to be a lot of standing around in the wings tonight. Scully spies Tina just as she's getting ready to go on, wearing the same gold gown she'd begun the evening in, not holding anything in her hands. Tina catches sight of her and gives her a smile and a wave. Then her gaze softens, looking just over Scully's shoulder, and when she turns, Scully sees Elise has come up behind her and is smiling softly back at Tina. With one long last look back, Tina turns as her name is called and strides onstage.

"I owe you big time," Elise tells Scully, as they both move so that they can see Tina standing center stage.

"What for?" Scully asks.

"Tina and I talked this afternoon," Elise says. "She told me what happened, with her and Bellman." She shudders. "I had no idea... but it all makes sense now, the way she pushed me away, the way she wouldn't talk to me." Elise smiles down at Scully. "She said coming clean and telling me what happened to her was your idea. So... thank you. I can't begin to tell you how much it means to me." They hear Freddie Clark announcing Tina, and both look out onstage to watch.

"What's Tina's talent?" But before Elise can answer, the music begins, and Tina begins singing opera in the sweetest, clearest voice Scully has ever heard. She turns to Elise, her eyes wide... and finds Elise gazing out onstage at Tina, smiling softly, every inch a woman in love.

It's exactly the way, Scully realizes, that Mulder looks at her... at least, in the quiet moments, when they're not disagreeing or running for their lives.

As Tina is finishing and leaving the stage, striding towards them with eyes only for Elise, Scully decides her presence is not necessary here, and she retreats further backstage to squeeze in just a tiny bit more practice. Alone in a corner, she runs through her routine again and again, ignoring the cramps building in her legs, the burning in her abdomen. Just a few more minutes, and this will be over, and she can escape back to her hotel room- and, hopefully, grab a hot bath.

Miss Vermont (whose name is Amy Rudolph, Scully has learned) is finishing up reading a poem of her own composition onstage, and Scully takes her place in the wings to await her turn. She tightens the laces on her shoes, makes sure her green velvet dress is on straight, and tucks her hair firmly behind her ears (she'd decided against the tight spiral curls she'd always kept her hair in for dance competitions with Melissa). Then, finally, her name is being called, and she's taking her place onstage, the lights off until she's standing, ready, on her mark.

When the lights come up and the music begins, Scully firmly pastes a wide smile on her face. The audience is into the performance right away, clapping along with the fast-paced, spirited fiddle music, cheering when Scully executes a particularly complicated bit of footwork. She hasn't attempted toe stands in ages, had left them out of this routine, but spur of the moment, she throws a few in, and the reaction is immediate and enthusiastic. Her three minutes onstage fly by, and all Scully can think of is her mother, watching at home, remembering the days that both her daughters had performed this routine together.

 _Well, Melissa,_ thinks Scully, as she finishes her dance, _I know we never got to go to Nationals, but how's_ this _for making up for it?_

Scully leaves the stage amidst a storm of applause... and as the high of performing wears off, the adrenaline begins to drain away, and she realizes, quite suddenly, just how much she's just overdone it. Her leg muscles are absolutely on fire, her toes feel like they've been stomped on, and the gunshot wound in her stomach is pulsing with pain. She just barely manages to keep from gasping and wincing as Elise helps her zip up her evening gown so that she can go back out onstage, and squeezing her feet into high-heeled shoes is pure agony. Once she and the other contestants are back out under the lights, she's scarcely aware of what's going on around her, because nearly all of her energy is being channeled into staying upright and keeping a smile on her face. She's cognizant enough to hear Tina's name being called, as well as Tessa's, and Stephanie Price and Monica Fischer's, too. And when her own name is called, she manages what she hopes is an appropriately joyful expression.

The final eight contestants, Scully standing with them, remain onstage for a moment longer as the others file away. They stand there, smiling and waving, for what feels to Scully like an hour... and then, finally, blessedly, they leave the stage.

Amidst the other contestants being congratulated or consoled by their coaches, Scully feels a bit out of place. Skinner is waiting for her, looking gruff but approving, and when Elise elbows him in the side, he steps closer to Scully and puts both arms around her awkwardly.

"Elise says it would look weird for me not to hug you," he whispers in Scully's ear, and she laughs as she steps back. Behind him, she sees Mulder, wearing a proud grin that stretches from ear to ear. When he hugs her, there's nothing awkward about it.

"That," he says as he releases her, "was _awesome._ " Scully blushes hard. "How come I never knew you could do that?"

"You've never asked," Scully says, as the four of them begin to make their way out of the backstage area and into the hallways. "We've never discussed old hobbies. For all I know, you've got a whole wealth of hidden talents that I don't know about." She throws him a playful smile, which he returns. Behind them, Skinner clears his throat, reminding them of his presence.

"I'm going to go check in with Kersh," he tells them. "Scully, you look like you can barely walk. Get your ass upstairs and get to bed. Mulder, go with her in case she falls over and needs to be carried." Scully glares at him as much as she's able.

"I'm... going to go congratulate Tina," says Elise, blushing slightly. "I'll see you in the morning, all right?"

"Good luck," says Scully, grinning, as Elise disappears into the crowd. Mulder frowns, confused.

"What's she need good luck for?" he asks. Scully laughs.

"Let's just say I know why she didn't ask you anything about yourself when she was giving you a tour of the hotel," she says. "And I can inform you that your ego absolutely does not need to feel bruised." Mulder looks confused for a moment longer; then, realization dawns, and he grins slowly.

"So Tina, huh?" Scully nods.

"Elise was her coach for years... her coach, and more. After what happened with Bellman, Tina couldn't cope and pushed her away." The smile fades from Mulder's face.

"Scully," he says, "whether Bellman has anything to do with these threats or not- and my instincts are telling me he does- someone has got to do something about him."

"I know," says Scully. "I've encouraged Tina to press charges... and if we can get confirmation that any of the other contestants have been assaulted, I'll try and convince them to do the same." Just then, her leg gives a particularly painful twinge, and she gasps.

"We'd better get you upstairs fast," says Mulder. "You want me to carry you? Skinner did say I should, after all." Scully fixes him with a stern look.

"Mulder," she says, "there is only one thing I need you to do for me right now, and I need you in my hotel room to do it. Let's go."

Swallowing hard, Mulder nods, and follows her to the elevators.

 

\------------------------------

 

"Ohhhhhh Mulder, that feels _so_ good," moans Scully, closing her eyes and leaning her head back on her pillow. "Keep doing it like that. Please."

"Like that, Scully? You like the way that feels?"

"Mmmm, yeah." Scully lets out a long, shivering sigh. "Exactly like that. Just don't stop, okay?"

"Wasn't planning on it." Mulder wrinkles his nose. "I just wish this didn't smell quite so bad, that's all." Scully laughs.

"Some people actually _like_ that smell, you know," she informs Mulder. He looks skeptical.

"Bengay? Really?" He holds up the tube of arthritis ointment. "Who likes the smell of Bengay? People with a fetish for the elderly?"

"Mulder, just shut up and please keep rubbing it on my calves, okay?" He wrinkles his nose again, but obliges, continuing the massaging that had her sighing in pleasure moments earlier. She'd arrived back in her room to find that her abdomen was in too much pain for her to bend over long enough to rub the pain relieving cream onto her aching muscles, and had asked Mulder to do it for her.

He doesn't seem to be minding too much. In fact, his hands keep wandering higher and higher, occasionally slipping under the hem of her bathrobe before returning to her calves. She doesn't stop him.

"So about those 'hidden talents' you mentioned earlier," he says, after awhile, "I think I should let you know that I play a mean recorder." Scully groans.

"You and every other third-grader in the country, Mulder," she says. "What else can you do?"

"I'm not too bad at dribbling a basketball," he says.

"I knew that," Scully says. "Tell me things I _don't_ know." He looks thoughtful. His fingers slide from the tops of her calves to just above her knees, still massaging her sore muscles.

"I know it's not really a skill," he tries, after a moment, "but I used to have quite the stamp collection."

"Ah, I should have known you were a philatelist," Scully says, smiling.

"I'm sorry?"

"A philatelist, Mulder," Scully repeats. "A stamp enthusiast."

"I know what it means," Mulder says, and Scully frowns.

"Then why'd you make me say it again?"

"Because it sounds dirty when you say it, Scully," says Mulder, and his fingers slip higher up on her thighs. She inhales sharply, tilting her head back. A tiny part of her mind is insisting that this is a bad idea, that for all she knows, Skinner could be in the room right next door by now, that this should wait until they're back in DC, back in the sanctuary of one of their apartments.

But she's tired, so tired, tired in the literal sense, and tired of fighting this thing between them that's been simmering just under the surface for far too long. She's convinced that ignoring it for all this time is what led to their little performance last night, that initially chaste kiss that had so quickly fallen to passion, that kiss that could have spelled disaster for them, had it happened in front of anyone other than Skinner.

So Scully doesn't stop him. She tilts her head back forward and keeps her eyes open, watching him, meeting his gaze as his hands continue their journey northward. His eyes ask permission, and she wordlessly grants it.

"I've also heard," Mulder says, his voice soft, "that I'm very good with my hands." His fingertips pause at the very tops of her thighs, at the join of her legs and her abdomen. Scully reaches down and unties her robe, slipping her arms out of it, leaving herself completely bare before him.

"Show me," she whispers.

His touch is feather-light at first, a gentle, reverent exploration of her. She gasps as his fingertips brush her clit, and his stroking grows immediately firmer, more sure. Keeping his hand in place, he crawls slowly up her body until he's lying over her. She clutches his head in her hands and kisses him deeply, moaning into his mouth as he changes things up, sliding two long fingers into her, his thumb taking up the position at her clit.

Mulder brings her within reach of her orgasm... and just before she reaches it, she stops him. "With you inside of me," she gasps, pulling at his shirt, trying to somehow remove it with his fingers still buried between her legs. He smiles mischievously. 

"I _am_ inside of you," he says, bending his fingers against her g-spot to further illustrate his point. She groans and shoves at him.

"Mulder, I swear to god, if you don't get your clothes off _right now_...." He laughs.

"Fine, fine," he says, and he backs off just enough to shrug out of his shirt and kick off his pants. He's back almost before she has time to miss him, settling himself between her thighs. She looks down and watches as he takes himself in hand, positioning himself and sliding into her with a deep, satisfied groan.

It's the single most erotic thing she's ever seen and she nearly comes just from the sight of it.

He sets up a slow, gentle cadence, mindful of the various aches and pains that are still troubling her, using both hands to keep his weight off of her. She reaches one tentative hand between her legs, taking up the rhythm where he'd left off. Some men, she knows, are bothered by a woman helping herself along, taking it as an insult to their prowess in bed... but something tells her Mulder is not one of those men.

He doesn't disappoint her.

Looking down, seeing her fingers at work just above where his cock is slipping out of her, he groans and closes his eyes, lowering his forehead to rest on the mattress by her temple.

"Can't watch that," he gasps into her ear. "It'll be all over in thirty seconds." She laughs, and pain shoots through the wound on her stomach, making her wince. Mulder is immediately concerned, stilling his motions. "Did I do that?" She shakes her head and grabs his hips, urging him onward.

"Just can't laugh," she says, returning her fingers to their spot between her legs.

"No jokes in bed. Got it," says Mulder, beginning to move again. "At least not until you're fully healed."

She's there quickly, thanks to his earlier ministrations, which is good, because he's clearly doing all he can to hold out and wait for her. All it takes for him is the feel of her spasming and clenching around him, and he comes with a loud moan that he muffles in her shoulder.

Scully wishes Mulder could simply collapse on top of her so that she could feel his weight fully, so that he could stay inside of her just a little bit longer, but she knows she couldn't manage that right now. Mulder, thankfully, seems to realize it as well, and he slips out and curls on his side next to her, keeping an arm around her waist, carefully avoiding her wounded stomach.

"Well," he says, when he's gotten his breath back, "the good news is, all can smell in this room is Bengay. No smell of sex at all."

"Which is good if Skinner decides to poke his head in here before going to sleep," agrees Scully. "So what's the bad news?"

"The bad news," says Mulder, tucking his head into her neck and kissing the skin beneath her ear, "is that I am, now and forever, going to associate the smell of arthritis cream with sex. More specifically, sex with you." He sighs. "So from now on, whenever a case takes us to a nursing home, whenever we have to interview an elderly witness... you're going to have to stand right in front of me the entire time, because I am going to have a raging hard-on."

The pain in her abdomen continues long after Scully has finally stopped laughing... but it's nothing one last painkiller before bed can't fix, and it is absolutely worth it.


	10. Chapter 10

Scully wakes feeling as warm and satisfied as it’s possible to feel when waking up alone, with a burning and delicious ache between her legs, a new and most welcome set of pains to join those in her stomach and in her calves. She sits up in bed, reaching over to the nightstand to take a long drink from the glass of water that Mulder had, thoughtfully, set there for her last night, before stealing quietly back into his own room.

That had been the one unsatisfying part of the evening: when they’d finished, there had been no question of whether they could drift off to sleep in one another’s arms, in the warmth of the afterglow. It might have been worth risking, had Mulder had his own hotel room, but Skinner would most certainly have noticed if Mulder had not come to bed at all that night. _Something to look forward to when we get back to Washington_ , Scully tells herself, as she kicks off the covers and climbs out of bed.

Scully stretches gingerly, and is just getting ready to shower, when there’s a knock on her door. She crosses the room slowly to open it, and standing on the other side, looking very tired and slightly sheepish, is Elise.

“Sorry for running off on you last night,” she says as she enters, carrying the tote containing all her makeup and hair supplies. "Tina and I got to talking, and before I knew it, it was well after midnight." Scully smiles understandingly.

"It's no problem," she says, closing the door and following Elise into the room. "I don't think I needed anything, anyway. I had some aches in my legs, but Mulder helped me handle them." Elise raises her eyebrows, and Scully feels herself go red all over. "I just mean he rubbed some Bengay on them. Gave me a massage. That's all." Elise continues to grin. 

"Was he any good at it?" she asks.

_"Elise!"_

"Sorry." Elise's grin is, if anything, even more smug than before.

Scully bites her lip and looks down. Her mind is doing battle with itself, her instinct to be private at war with the feeling Elise gives her: that Scully can tell her anything, that she won't judge. 

"Yeah," Scully finally says, smiling into her lap, "he was good at it." Elise makes a squealing noise reminiscent of a boiling teakettle. "But before you ask, I am _not_ divulging any details."

"I'd never ask," says Elise, laughing. "I'm just happy to know you had as good a night as I did."

Breakfast, once Scully is dressed, is a somewhat awkward affair. She eats at a table with Elise, Skinner, and Mulder... and with three of the four of them suffused in a leftover post-coital glow from the previous night, and doing their best to hide it, the atmosphere is interesting to say the least. Scully is dying to know what had transpired between Skinner and Mulder last night when Mulder had finally slipped out of her bed and made his way next door. She has no idea if Skinner had been awake or not, but for both her and Mulder's sakes, she's hoping he hadn't been. Mulder has never had the best poker face.

"So what's on the agenda for today?" Scully asks, when the silent tension at the table is finally too much.

"Nothing on my end until five o'clock," says Elise. "We can run through potential interview questions if you really want to, but I think you can probably hold your own. And of course, you can run through your talent portion a few more times." Scully groans.

"I really have to do it again?"

"All of the final eight have to," says Elise, with a sympathetic smile. "I know you're sore, but just remember, after tonight, you never have to do it again, if you don't want to."

"Don't worry," interjects Mulder. "There's plenty of Bengay left in that tube for after. I checked." Elise snorts with laughter, and Scully feels herself going red all over. Scully kicks Mulder under the table.

Skinner glowers at his empty plate, determined not to meet anyone's eye.

"On our end," he says gruffly, clearly anxious to change the subject, "if you want your request to look into Bellman's potential involvement to be taken seriously, you need to talk to the contestants who have been threatened. Get as much first-hand evidence as possible."

"All the evidence in the world isn't going to be enough to convince Kersh," Mulder grumbles. "He's made up his mind that there's no way someone in Bellman's position could do something like this."

"I'm not saying it won't be difficult," says Skinner.

"Difficult?" Mulder shakes his head. "Sir, we could find Bellman standing at a computer, typing out the next threat himself, with photos of the threatened contestants tacked up on the wall in front of him, and Kersh would find a way to say it's all circumstantial. It's impossible."

"Then I suggest you get on it, Agent Mulder," says Skinner calmly. "'Impossible' has never stopped you before."

 

\---------------------

 

"Kersh is just covering his ass," says Mulder, frustrated, as he and Scully cross the lobby together.

"I know he is," says Scully, "but in a way, Mulder, he's right. It doesn't matter how sure I am that I'm right. All the hunches in the world are useless if they can't be proven."

"So you've been trying to tell me for years, Scully," says Mulder, grinning, and Scully smiles up at him in exasperation.

"And I'm right, and what's more, you _know_ I'm right," she says.

"Oh? What gives you that idea?"

"What was it you said? My 'god-damned strict rationalism has saved you a thousand times over?'" Mulder's smile goes soft at the edges as he realizes what she's referring to.

"Yeah, I might've been a little emotional when I said that," he says. "Doesn't necessarily mean I think you're right _all_ the time, though."

"Well, I'm right this time," Scully insists. "I need more hard evidence." She heads towards the elevators, and Mulder follows.

"Where are you going?" he asks. But before Scully can answer, she hears an all-too-familiar loud voice behind her, and turning, she sees Tessa Gillman striding into the lobby from one of the dining rooms, Stephanie Price and Monica Fischer walking with her.

"Not going anywhere, now," says Scully softly to Mulder. "Quick, pretend you're comforting me." Mulder frowns, confused.

"Huh?"

"Put your arm around me and talk to me like you're trying to calm me down," Scully hisses, trying to look upset as, across the lobby, Tessa catches sight of them. "Just follow my lead, okay?" She can see from Mulder's expression that he's starting to understand- or, at least, she hopes he is. There's no time to explain more, because Tessa is charging at them full-speed.

"Kathrine, honey, are you okay?" Tessa asks. Mulder, who's rubbing Scully's shoulder soothingly, looks up and speaks before Scully has a chance.

"A little run-in with Alan Bellman," he says, keeping his voice low. "He, uh... he seems to have some issues with boundaries."

Oh, that unspoken communication. Scully can't wait for more chances to put it to the test elsewhere.

"Oh, Honey," says Tessa, sympathetically, "believe me, I know _exactly_ what you're talking about." She puts an arm around Scully's shoulders, unceremoniously knocking Mulder out of the way. She begins to steer Scully towards the elevators, with Stephanie and Monica trailing along behind, looking just as concerned. Scully twists in Tessa's arm to look back at Mulder.

"Marty," she says, "why don't you let Walt know I'm going back upstairs for a bit? I'll see you both at dinner." Mulder nods his understanding, and Scully allows herself to be led into a waiting elevator.

 

"So, Sweetie, spill it," says Tessa, as soon as the hotel room door is closed behind them. Tessa has escorted Scully to the room she's sharing with Miss Florida, who is, thankfully, not present. "What happened?"

"I'm not even sure," Scully says. "One minute, I'm just standing there talking to him, and the next, he's running his hands all over my arms and trying to lean me against the wall." Scully shudders, and she's not faking it- the thought of Alan Bellman touching her is disgusting, and it's not like she doesn't have a massive catalogue of real-life memories to choose from when it comes to things like this. "I told him to stop, and he wouldn't... so I threatened to tell someone, and he just laughed." Tessa nods understandingly.

"That is almost _exactly_ what happened with me, when I had lunch with him after I won Miss Texas," says Tessa. "Only I told him that I'm a good Texas girl who knows her way around a gun, and that if he didn't take his hands off me, the next time I saw him, he'd be losin' his left nut." Scully laughs tremulously, then looks to Stephanie and Monica.

"Did the same thing happen to you?" she asks. Both women shake their heads.

"I brought an escort to my lunch," says Stephanie. "The woman who won Miss Minnesota the year before me suggested it."

"I did the same thing," says Monica. 

"See, and I had no idea that was even an option," says Tessa, shaking her head. "But now I'm hearing more and more girls are doing it." She leans forward conspiratorially. "Rumor has it," she says, keeping her voice low (or as low as it goes, at any rate), "that if he doesn't watch it, he's gonna end up with his whole pageant bein' shut down." Scully's eyes widen.

"Really?" she asks. "Why?"

"Because so many contestants have started telling each other what he's been up to," says Monica. "Sooner or later, some of them are going to get together and decide to do something about it. And even if the charges don't stick, Bellman's reputation will be injured."

"And the more girls that come forward, I'm bettin' others'll get up the courage to join 'em," says Tessa. "Before long, he's gonna have every girl he's ever felt up standin' in front of a news camera. And somethin' tells me-" Tessa's voice drops lower- "that there are women out there that he's done _more_ than grope. Enough of _them_ come forward, and he could be lookin' at jail time."

Inside Scully's head, there's a loud _DING_ as the final piece slides into place. Bellman has the means and the opportunity, certainly... and now she knows his motive. And from the sounds of things, almost any contestant could be called on as a potential witness, and not just the ones she knows have been threatened.

As quickly as possible, Scully makes her excuses, and goes to find Kersh.

 

\-----------------

 

It's almost an exact repeat of yesterday when Scully arrives, out of breath, in the command center, with one notable difference: the entire room is buzzing with excitement that can only mean one thing: there's been some kind of a break in the case. Scully spies Mulder standing in a corner, frowning as though something is bothering him, and she crosses to him quickly.

"What's going on?" she asks.

"They think they've got a suspect," says Mulder, bending to speak quietly to her. "Bellman called Kersh and Skinner up to his penthouse earlier today to go through his assistant's personal office. He claims the guy- Wallace is his name, I think- left something out on his desk, a draft of another threat against Bellman and his family." Scully is highly skeptical.

"He left it sitting out? On a desk his boss has access to?" Mulder nods, still frowning.

"I know," he says. "I don't buy it for one second. Those letters were sent totally clean of _any_ evidence- no DNA, no fingerprints, no distinguishing characteristics of any kind. Someone who went through that much trouble to evade detection isn't going to leave a copy of a threat lying around where anyone could see it." Scully looks around the room, but doesn't see Kersh.

"Where's the A.D.?" she asks.

"Kersh and Skinner are questioning the guy," he says. "I wanted to sit in, and Skinner was all for it, but Kersh said no."

"This doesn't feel right, Mulder," says Scully.

"Tell me about it." He starts suddenly. "Hey, wait, you _do_ have something to tell me. What did you find out from Miss Texas and company?"

"A lot," says Scully. "Turns out, Tessa was on the receiving end of some unwanted attention from Bellman, and she outright threatened him." Mulder's eyebrows raise.

"You think that's why she's one of the ones getting warning letters?" Scully nods.

"Definitely," she says. "Though, from what I heard just now, almost any contestant, past or present, could have gotten one if they'd responded with anything other than meek acquiescence." Mulder's face darkens.

"That many?" Scully nods. "Whether he has anything to do with the threats or not, this guy needs to be dealt with."

"But you do believe me?" Scully asks. "That he has the motive to be the one doing the threatening?"

"Yeah, I do," says Mulder.

At that moment, the door to the room opens, and Kersh and Skinner stride in. Scully makes a beeline straight for them.

"Sir," she says, addressing Kersh directly, "I've just come from speaking to several of the contestants, including one of the ones who's been receiving threats, and I'm confident that interviewing not just her, but almost any of the contestants, will provide you with enough evidence to investigate Bellman's potential involvement."

"Agent Scully," says Kersh brusquely, "we've already _got_ someone in custody, someone Bellman himself pointed us towards. Bellman is _not_ involved."

"And the suspect has confessed?" asks Scully.

"No, he hasn't," Skinner admits. "He insists he's never heard of the Knights of Tradition and Virtue, that he's never threatened Bellman or any of the contestants, and that he doesn't know how that letter got onto his desk."

"Does he have any priors?" asks Mulder. "Anything at all that indicates his guilt?"

"You mean beyond the hard evidence found among his personal possessions?" asks Kersh coldly.

"Yes, I mean beyond the easily-planted, easily-fabricated evidence that was suspiciously easy to stumble across," says Mulder, just as coldly.

"Nothing," says Skinner. "No priors, no record. He spoke freely with us for almost an hour before he finally invoked his right to an attorney."

"This doesn't feel right," says Mulder stubbornly.

"Agent Mulder, we're not making any decisions based on what does or does not 'feel right' to you," says Kersh.

"So we're going to just take off?" asks Scully. "We're just going to close up shop and assume that that's it, that we've got our guy?"

"No, we're not," says Skinner. "The threats were signed by the name of a group, and the suspect hasn't named any accomplices, so we are operating under the assumption that there could be other members of this group in attendance tonight." He looks hard at Scully. "You will go onstage as planned tonight, and this time, I want you armed."

"That could blow her cover," objects Kersh. "Where's she going to fit a gun while wearing an evening gown?"

"She'll wear a thigh holster," says Skinner. "I've had Elise Needham select an appropriate gown. I'm not taking any chances with my agents' lives, Alvin. Not while you're in charge."

 

\---------------

 

Elise, Scully thinks to herself yet again as she's getting ready backstage, is a wardrobe wizard.

Not only has she managed to find Scully a holster that rides high up on her thigh enough to keep her weapon out of sight, she's even covered it in a sequined fabric that matches her gown, making it all but invisible from any angle. And the gown itself is cut so that she can access her weapon quickly and draw it without any chance of getting tangled in the slit that runs nearly all the way up her leg.

"I'll admit, this experience has taught me all kinds of new things," remarks Elise, standing in the corner of the curtained-off changing area and watching as Scully practices reaching into her gown and drawing her gun again and again. "I've never had to make wardrobe choices based on firearm accessibility before."

"You should hire yourself out to international spy rings," comments Scully, securing her gun one final time and straightening the fabric of her deep blue dress. "I have no idea how you'd advertise, though." Elise laughs. Scully looks up at her, suddenly serious. "I want to thank you, Elise," she says. "There's no way I could have done any of this without your help." Elise waves her hand dismissively.

"You would have been fine," she says. "If I've learned anything about you, it's that you're resourceful."

"I would have made it through, I'm sure," Scully says. "But I would have been a complete nervous wreck the entire time. I wouldn't have had the wherewithal to focus on gathering evidence, on paying attention to what the contestants have had to tell me, if I'd had to worry about what to wear, and how to act... and especially if you hadn't been such a boost to my self-confidence." Elise grins, then crosses the tiny changing area and gives Scully a warm hug.

"Anything you feel like I've done for you, you've already repaid, and then some," says Elise. "I couldn't have gotten Tina to talk to me again, because I had no idea what was wrong... but thanks to you...." Elise smiles widely. "Well, I won't say things are back to normal, but they're definitely getting there."

 

\--------------------

 

Waiting in the wings tonight is a completely different experience from the two previous evenings. There are only eight of them now, and rather than standing aloof from one another, they're all gathered together backstage in a tight knot. Tessa offers to lead them all in a prayer, and though Scully's pretty sure that eight different religions (or lack of religions) are represented in this group, they all agree. There's comfort in standing in a circle holding hands, at least, even if the words don't have the same meaning for everyone.

"I cannot _believe_ how nervous I am, y'all," exclaims Tessa, and the others nod fervently. 

"Tell me about it," says Scully. While it's true that her nerves are jangling, it's got much more to do with what could be happening offstage tonight than what's going to happen at the judges' table. Whether it's Bellman or someone else behind those letters, one way or another, it's likely that the threats will come to fruition tonight, and every muscle in Scully's body is tensed, ready to confront this danger, however it may manifest.

Just before they're called to their places, Mulder suddenly appears at Scully's shoulder.

"Just wanted to wish you luck, Katherine," he says, loudly enough so that the other contestants can hear. He bends down and hugs her tightly, whispering in her ear. "The audience is full of undercover agents," he says, "but Bellman knows they're there. If I had to bet, I'd say he's got someone hidden somewhere that he knows we don't have anyone. And whatever he's got planned, there's no way _he'll_ be the one doing it." Scully nods her agreement. "Be careful," he says. "I'll be right here the whole time."

"Places please, ladies!" the stage manager calls out, and Mulder releases Scully.

"See you soon," she says, and gets in line with the other contestants.

Tonight's set of nerves are an entirely new experience. Standing in a line at the opening, stepping forward when her name is called, even going through her interview (which, this time, is a low-ball question about her idea of the perfect date that she doesn't even need to use a fraction of her brain to answer), Scully is hyper-aware of her surroundings, scanning the wings and what little she can see of the catwalk and the audience for anyone or anything that looks out of place. When the talent portion arrives, she's glad she's taken so much time to practice her dance routine, even as sore as it's made her, because she no longer has to think about getting the steps right. With her feet flying on autopilot, she's free to focus her attention on her surroundings. She's the last performer, and in a moment, all eight of the final contestants are going to be standing onstage, at the pinnacle of the competition.

Whatever's going to happen, it's only minutes away.

Towards the end of her routine, one of the spotlights above her slips, just the tiniest bit, before righting itself. Scully doubts anyone in the audience has noticed... but her adrenaline spikes sharply. The people manning those lights, at an event like this, are the best of the best, _not_ people who are liable to slip up on the biggest night of the show. Either someone is getting fired at the end of the evening, or there's someone up in the catwalk who's not supposed to be there.

As soon as she's offstage following her performance, Scully finds Mulder. "Do you have my earpiece?" she demands, grabbing him by the arm and dragging him back towards her changing are..

"Yeah, I do," he says, startled.

"Give it to me," she says. "And send someone up to the catwalk." Mulder frowns, rushing along beside her.

"What did you see?"

"Maybe nothing," says Scully, grabbing her evening gown back off of the garment rack, "but my gut says someone's up there who shouldn't be. One of the lights shook, just a little bit. You need to get someone up there to check. Let me know what's happening on the earpiece." Mulder pulls it out of his pocket and hands it to her.

"I'll go myself," he says, turning to Skinner, who's just stepping through the door in the control room. As Scully's changing in her cubicle, she hears Mulder updating him on the situation. By the time she's in her gown and out from behind the curtain, Mulder has disappeared. Skinner takes her arm and leads her towards the wings, where the other contestants wait to go onstage. A concerned-looking Elise follows behind them.

"Stay alert out there," he says in a low voice. "Don't worry about taking the suspect down; we'll handle that. You just focus on keeping yourself and the others safe." There's a crackling in Scully's ear, and Mulder's voice comes through.

"Scully," he says, "I need Skinner. There's someone guarding the stairs into the flies that shouldn't be there." Scully relays this to Skinner, who looks confused.

"The flies?" he asks. "Where's that?"

"He means all the walkways upstairs," says Elise. "There's a spiral staircase in the corner, backstage. I'll show you." Skinner looks at Scully one more time.

"Stay sharp," he says. "We'll take care of this." And he and Elise take off, leaving Scully on her own. 

When Freddie Clark announces the contestants' names, and they begin to parade onstage, Scully pastes on the largest smile she can manage, her cheeks aching with the effort. There's nothing but silence from her earpiece, and she wonders if Mulder has made it up into the flies yet, or if the unexpected obstacle at the staircase has held him back. She fights with herself to keep from glancing up at the spotlight that had wavered before. If someone _is_ up there who shouldn't be, she doesn't want whoever it is to know they're onto them.

Downstage, in front of them, Selena Flores has joined Freddie, carrying a glittering crown on a pillow, ready to place it on the head of tonight's winner. From his pocket, Freddie withdraws an envelope, which he slides open. 

"The seventh runner-up," he reads, "is Miss Stephanie Price of Minnesota!" Stephanie walks downstage amidst applause, smiling and waving at the crowd, before resuming her place in line. Scully has been briefed on this by Elise: all the runners-up will stay back here, except for the second and third, who will stay further downstage with Freddie Clark and Selena Flores. The first-place winner will, when she's announced, take up a position in front of all of them.

"The sixth runner-up is Miss Monica Fischer of Michigan!" Monica repeats Stephanie's route. 

"Scully," comes Mulder's voice suddenly, in her ear, "we're at the top of the staircase. There's a crew member knocked out." She can't answer, even a nod won't go unnoticed out here, and her anxiety ratchets up a notch. She nearly misses the fifth runner-up being called, and suddenly, she hears her own name.

"The fourth runner-up," calls Freddie Clark, "is Miss Katherine Hale of Virginia!" Scully proceeds woodenly to the front, accepts her bouquet, and returns upstage as Amy Rudolph of Vermont is announced as the third runner-up. She stays downstage with Freddie and Selena, and suddenly, Scully realizes that, in a moment, all of the women who have received threats will be standing together in one place.

They're _all_ in danger. And there's nothing but radio silence from Mulder.

Just to Scully's left, Tina and Tessa are standing together, holding hands, waiting to hear which of them will be crowned victorious. Freddie is looking at his envelope, about to read the name out loud... and suddenly, the spotlight shifts again, more noticeably this time. Stephanie and Monica see it and exchange glances, eyebrows raised. Has Mulder taken the suspect down? Is it safe? No, Mulder would have told her, and if something has happened to him, Skinner would be on the earpiece. Whatever's going on, it's best to assume that the threat has not been neutralized.

"And tonight's winner, this year's Miss United States, is...." There's an actual, literal drumroll from the pit orchestra beneath them. "Miss Tina Fitzsimmons of California!" The auditorium erupts in cheers as Tina, smiling broadly, her eyes tearing up, steps forward to accept her bouquet. Selena Flores places the crown on her head... and at the same moment, the wobbling spotlight suddenly drops, focusing on an empty patch of stage.

It's all the signal Scully needs.

Moving so quickly that her sore leg muscles are screeching in protest- to say nothing of the sudden agony in her abdomen- Scully drops her bouquet and abandons her place in line, rushing headlong down the stage. Freddie Clark makes a startled grab for her, but she evades him easily. She swears she can sense someone taking aim from above them.

" _Get down!_ " Scully shrieks, reaching into her gown and drawing her gun, making a flying leap for Tina and tackling her ungracefully to the stage... just as there's a _crack_ of gunfire from above them.

Scully feels a stinging pain across her shoulder. She hears, as if from a distance, gasps and screams from the crowd, and she's aware of the other contestants fleeing offstage. There's another gunshot, but it misses completely. Keeping as much of her body over Tina's as she can, Scully aims her own weapon up at the catwalk... but she can see nothing past the spotlight, which is now shining directly on her, marking her all too easily as a target. Without pausing to think, Scully fires, taking out the light. Once it's gone dark she can make out figures grappling behind it, and she knows that Mulder and Skinner have finally arrived. She doesn't dare shoot- there's no way to know which figure is the shooter, and which are Skinner and Mulder- and all she can do is pull Tina to her feet and urge her to run offstage as quickly as possible. The auditorium is rapidly emptying as the audience flees in a panic, and various spotlights are dropping from their focal points as their operators abandon them. Somewhere, someone kills the footlights, and Scully can see into the nearly-empty theater for the first time.

_"YOU BITCH!!!"_

The shout takes her by surprise, as does the sudden sight of Alan Bellman rushing down the aisle, his face completely deranged and a gun in his hand. Scully would have expected him to melt away with the rest of the crowd, appearing on camera later to express his shock and horror... but apparently Bellman is more unhinged than she'd previously thought.

She doesn't hesitate to raise her own gun and, calmly, shoot him in the shoulder, taking him down.

The temptation to shoot him in the balls is quite strong... but she is, after all, a professional.

 

\--------------------

 

By the time Mulder and Skinner have finished dragging the gunman from the spotlight down the tight, spiral staircase leading to the flies, Scully is sitting at the edge of the stage, trying not to pass out, while Elise holds a cloth to her shoulder where the bullet has grazed her. Tina is sitting on her other side, holding her hand, her crown sitting askew on her head.

"An FBI agent," she keeps saying, as though trying to convince herself. "I never would have... I just... you're really FBI?" Scully nods, smiling wearily. "And your name's not Katherine Hale?"

"Dana Scully," she says. "Nice to meet you. I'd shake your hand, but my arm doesn't seem to be working too well." Once the adrenaline had drained away, the pain in her shoulder had made holding her gun upright a massive strain. But by that time, thankfully, the agents stationed around the auditorium had Bellman restrained, awaiting the paramedics. Bellman has not said a word since his initial outburst- paving the way, Scully is sure, to claim that he had merely been shocked by the event, had even thought, perhaps, that Scully had been the threat.

It doesn't matter. Mulder and Skinner are bringing down a live suspect who, she's sure, will be all to willing to point the finger at Bellman in exchange for a lesser sentence. 

"Scully!" She looks up sharply at the sound of Mulder's exclamation, and immediately regrets it when the motion aggravates the wound in her shoulder. Mulder leaves Skinner to hand off the gunman to other agents and rushes to her side, dropping down next to her.

"It's okay, Mulder," she reassures him. "It just grazed me." Behind him, she sees Kersh approaching, and she can't stop herself from glaring at him. "What do you think, Sir?" she asks. "Is this proof enough for you?" Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Skinner sighing at her insubordination. Kersh, however, merely sets his mouth in a thin line.

"Yes, Agent Scully," he says. "I'd say this about does it."

The paramedics arrive at that moment. They go to Bellman first, stripping off his suit jacket and shirt to get at the gunshot wound, which was a good, clean shot, straight through. They pack the wound and get him on a stretcher, and once he's on his way out, they come up to the stage to have a look at Scully.

"It's just a scratch," she tells them, as Elise removes the cloth she's holding to the wound so that they can get a look at it.

"Not too bad," says the paramedic. "You're going to need stitches, though." Scully groans.

"Can't we just sew it up here?" she asks, and Mulder chuckles.

"Agent Scully, face it, you're going to the hospital," says Skinner firmly.

"Sir, it's really nothing," protests Scully. "I'm sure they've got a numbing agent on hand, and if not, it won't be that bad if they just-" Scully's cut off as Mulder's phone suddenly begins to ring shrilly. He fumbles for it in his pocket and answers it.

"Mulder," he says, and immediately, his expression changes to one of absolute dread. Scully can hear the voice yelling on the other end of the line, and her stomach plummets sharply. "Yes, ma'am, she- no, I wasn't, but I was trying to-" The yells are growing in volume. "Of course you can. She's right here." Turning to Scully, he holds out the phone, his expression sheepish. "Scully," he says, "it's your mom."

And suddenly, Scully finds, a trip to the hospital doesn't sound so terrible after all.


End file.
